


Mind of Mine

by zaynsbitxh



Category: One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician)
Genre: Also fluff, Angst, Boyfriend Liam, Brain tumor, Breakup, CEO zayn, Cancer, Fight Sex, Happy Ending?, Heartbreak, Hospital, Insecure Liam, Jealousy, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, Moviestar Zayn, Office Sex, Older Liam, Short Stories, Smut, Song Lyrics, Surgery, blowjob, gigi hadid - Freeform, handjob, mind of mine
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-09-12 15:19:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9078451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zaynsbitxh/pseuds/zaynsbitxh
Summary: "Mind of Mine"18 songs, 18 stories, 18 different personalities.Zayn Malik & Liam Payne.Nothing more.Nothing less.A beautiful mess.





	1. MiNd Of MiNdd

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So basically this is a short story based on the song "MiNd Of MiNdd" by Zayn which isn't really a song but well it's in the album, so. I'll write a story like this (or different) to every song on this album, every chapter being a new song which means a new story line, different personalities.
> 
> Those stories are not related.
> 
> I hope this won't be a mess, enjoy :)

**“Open up and see what’s inside of my, my mind”**

  


Zayn hated the white walls in front of him.

 

Trying to trap him.

 

_Trap his mind._

 

Because that’s what all of them wanted to do, right?

 

Trap his mind, discover his thoughts to destroy him.

 

He fucking hated all of them.

 

And still, he sat there, the soft ticking of the white clock running through his blank mind, not moving an inch, waiting for them to call him. The monotone voice blaring through the speakers, calling him by his last name, like everyone did.

 

Because he was above them.

 

Better than them.

 

_Malik._

 

Gushes, whispers following every time his name fell.

 

Eyes, following every step he took.

  
Trying to understand him.

 

Trying to catch him.

 

Catch a glimpse of him through the tinted windows, the dark sunglasses and the emotionless mask covering his face.

 

But he knew better than to speak, to talk to them, because every word would be taken out of his mouth, reaching the world twisted and misunderstood. No one understood him, no one cared to get to know him and somehow, he managed not to care anymore.

 

He was _Malik_.

 

King of the press.

 

King of his company, ruling in his own world like he did out there.

 

He wasn’t there, to be understood.

 

He was there to understand.

 

To lead.

 

Whether into darkness or glory.

 

He talked, whenever he wanted to, he slept simply when he needed to and his mask fell whenever he wanted it to.

 

Except he never did.

 

And why should he?

 

Feelings were a weakness he couldn’t allow. They led to mistakes, discomfort and failure and he couldn’t allow that. He wouldn’t.

 

Because he was _Malik_ and that’s everything he was ever going to be.

 

The clock was ticking still as his palms started rubbing over his chin, the soft stubble like rough sand underneath his touch. His thoughts were rushing.

 

Even though he didn’t show it.

 

His face looked calm and relaxed.

  
Even though, deep inside, he was anxious.

 

Anxious, to face them again, their piercing gazes, their piles of sheets filled with notes about him.

 

His behaviour.

 

His thoughts.

 

_His mind._

 

It terrified him, the thought of someone catching a glimpse at him.

 

Not at his face, his suits, his money.

 

No, at _him._

 

Deep, deep inside.

 

He wouldn’t let that happen.

 

Zayn's skilled fingers straightened his tie, soft beams of sunlight covering the floor in small sprinkles as the speakers started cracking.

 

“Malik in office One, please, Malik.”  


He got up.

 

His lips parting for a sigh.

 

A sigh so soft, you could mistake it for a breath taken in by his plump lips.

 

He knew exactly, what he looked like as he strode towards the white door covered by the number **One**. He knew, that his back was straight, his suit without any wrinkles and his face blank as he slowly opened the door.

 

Not too slow to seem unwilling and not too fast like he wanted it to get over with.

 

Even though he hated stepping into the much too bright office, sitting down in the too comfortable chair and focusing his brown eyes on the too friendly smiling lady in front of him.

 

He hated every second with every burning fiber vibrating through his veins.

 

But his face was blank.

 

“Mr Malik, it’s a very pleasure to meet you.”

 

Zayn nodded, straightening his back.

 

He knew, if he’d lean back, he’d be comfortable.

 

Careless with his words.

 

He eyed the woman sitting behind the brown desk, her blonde hair, soft, pink lips and bright blue eyes, fitting into the company with every breath she took.

 

She was like all of them.

 

Too soft, too friendly, too innocent.

 

For he knew, that was not whom she was.

 

Like him, she wore a mask, the mask she had to wear, like the many ones before her.

 

A soft smile covered his lips.

 

_Blonde the fifth._

 

He liked naming them, their real names escaping his busy mind the second they left her soft lips. Gone, like the fresh breeze floating through the room.

 

Too relaxing.

 

His smile disappeared.

 

“Okay, we will start easily, okay - Zayn, I hope you don’t mind me calling you that?”

 

The same procedure every time.

 

And, as always, he softly shook his head, eyelashes drawing shadows on his defined cheekbones.

 

“No.”

 

  
He could already see her smiling, so sure of herself.

 

So sure, she cracked him.

 

“Great, because-”

 

His fingers linked in his lap, as he raised his gaze, interrupting her with a soft chuckle.

 

“No, that’s not what I meant.”

  
  
Her mouth started forming a pink **o**.

 

So predictable.

  
So easy to manipulate.

  
“But-”

 

  
Again, his voice interrupted her, his tone never changing the soft, controlled tune.

 

“I actually do mind, Miss, and now, I certainly hope you respect that.”

 

He cocked his head, blinking as she straightened her dress, confused, before her mask came back on.

 

“Of course not, Mr Malik, I will do everything to make you feel as comfortable as possible here.”

 

He didn’t answer, but that wasn’t necessary, for she kept on talking, tapping her pen against the map in front of her.

 

A soft, clicking noise, trying to lull him into a relaxed state.

 

He nearly shook his head in disapproval.

 

She should know better.

 

Her clever folder in front of her, filled with files and notes about his previous visits should know better.

 

“I will be honest with you, Mr Malik-”  


A move to make him believe he can trust her.

 

Zayn held back an amused chuckle.

 

“- I was told, that I should try to make you talk about your problems-”

 

_But she won’t, because on her opinion that’s disrespectful._

 

“- but I have to tell you, that I, personally, think that is nothing but disrespectful and rude.”

 

_So damn predictable._

 

He raised an eyebrow.

 

She smiled at him, not showing her teeth, like none of them did.

 

They all thought it would seem friendlier, but in Zayn's eyes, the small lipped smile she wore was nothing but a promise, a promise of what was to come.

 

A small lipped smile, a friendly wink, a silent laugh.

 

Followed by questions.

 

Questions he won’t answer.

 

“So, let’s talk about something else, something pleasant, like-”

 

She tapped her finger on her cheek, smiling her smile again.

  
  
“- how the company is doing, I mean, you do have a lot of pressure on you, right?” 

 

Blue eyes waiting for an answer.

 

He smiled, the corner of his mouth raising slightly.

 

“The company is doing great, thank you, and to answer your question, yes, I do have a lot of responsibilities to take care of but I was aware of that as I agreed to take over the company.”

 

He crossed his legs, suppressing the urge to adjust his tie, for he knew she would take that as a sign of nervousness.

 

Of discomfort.

 

He could hear the scrabble of her pen, before she raised her gaze, nodding, like she understood him.

  
Like she understood the meaning of _business_.

 

“I believe you did not regret that decision?”

 

_Every single day of his life._

 

“No.”

 

She nodded, hiding her disappointment.

 

He knew, it was the exact answer he had given the week before, as he had sat down in front of a red headed woman. He knew that was what was printed on a page inside the black folder in front of her.

 

It was, what she had expected, but not what she had hoped for.

 

“Did you feel relieve after you finally got to follow your father’s footsteps?”

 

“Finally?”

 

Amused, he raised an eyebrow.

 

She shrugged, her fingers linking as she leaned forward.

 

Trying to make her seem interested in his thoughts.

 

Which she, maybe, was.

 

At least, in the things, she wanted to know.

 

“Weren’t you disappointed, that your father preferred someone else over his own son?”

 

Zayn held back a sneer.

 

“Should I have been?”

 

His face was calm, seemingly relaxed as she tried to rip off his mask with the intense stare she eyed him with, before she shook her blonde head.

 

“No, of course not, I simply reckoned, that I would, if I would have been in your position-”  
  
He knew that pull.

 

The _We’re-not-that-different_ pull.

 

“- because my father used to do that, too.”

 

She pretended to sigh whilst he stared at her with a blank expression.

 

Like he gave a fuck about her life.

 

“He, if you don’t mind me telling you-”

 

_He did._

 

“- always preferred my sister over me and it took its time to get over that. I yearned for help during these days, until I finally got to speak to someone.”

 

Zayn nearly rolled his eyes.

 

“That someone being from this company, actually.”

 

Blinking at him friendly, she waited for him to respond.

 

Waiting for the _“I need someone like that, too”_ , but after a few silent seconds, she gave up.

 

“Well, however, if you feel the need to talk to someone-”

 

_He definitely won’t call her._

 

“- you can always find me here on Mondays, Tuesdays and Thursdays and if you feel the need to talk any other day, you can call me.”

 

Pulling out a familiar, white card, she got up, making him raise, too.

 

_Thank god, that was over._

 

He shook her hand, ignoring her disappointed expression and took the card with a blank expression covering his features, before he strolled towards the door, letting it fall shut behind him.

 

His eyes glanced on the white clock above the waiting room.

 

_Seven point seven p.m._

 

He was late.

 

Again, he allowed himself a soft sigh as he turned his back on the white door, mumbling a soft _See you next week, you fuckers_ before leaving through the door hidden in the back.

 

+++

 

He wasn’t surprised to see someone else behind the brown desk a week later.

 

It was nothing new, every week a new woman, either blonde-, black- or redheaded, with a confident smile he’d wipe out of their faces by the end of their meeting.

 

But it had always been a woman.

  
Every time.

 

Maybe that was the reason, why he found himself cocking his eyebrow a little as he faced the man in front of him, looking at him scribbling something on the sheet of paper in front of him.

 

It was something new.

 

He liked it.

 

The challenge.

 

Zayn linked his fingers, the rings on them meeting as he scrunched his eyebrows, waiting for the man to look up.

 

To smile at him with his lips pressed together.

 

To shake his hand with a too friendly handshake.

 

But he didn’t do any of that.

 

The scratch of the man’s pen filled the air as Zayn straightened his back.

 

This man was wasting his time.

 

Annoyance started spreading through his veins and he coughed slightly, making the man look up.

 

And suddenly, he was glad, he’s had time to practise his unbothered look, because, fuck, this man was beautiful.

 

He had sharp, defined features, pink, plump lips and a light stubble covering his jaw. Eyes, catching the light like a sun absorbing golden sun beams, drowning in a sea of endless brown, lips plump and kissed by a pink colour and god, he suddenly felt the urge to touch the rough stubble covering his jaw, touching the scratchy sand on the smooth piece of canvas.

 

His brown eyes immediately scanned over Zayn's face and he tried not to stare back like he wanted to.

 

Was that a splash of green in them?

  
  
He didn’t care to look twice, even though it slightly bothered him, not being able to put him in a category.

 

Not being able to read him, like he always did.

 

The man looked up at him, slightly nodding at the chair in front of his desk.

 

Material, Zayn hated like nothing else.

 

“Sit.”

  
Zayn ignored the way, the mans rough voice sent small shivers down his spine, the slightly rough tune in it making his skin prickle.

 

Like it wasn’t supposed to.

 

It confused him.

 

Even though he didn’t show it as he sat down, straight as usual.

 

The man leaned back whilst Zayn eyed the pile of white cards on his desk. He still hadn’t told him his name and somehow, he was curious if he could sort him in by that.

 

His eyes squinted, slightly, but still noticeable as he tried reading the letters on one of the cards.

 

“It’s Liam Payne.”

  
  
Zayn nearly slapped him, angry, he had shown the slightest interest.

 

_Like he was going to remember his name._

 

He held back a huff.

 

“I didn’t ask.”

  
  
His voice cold and short, his lips pressed together in a thin line.

 

The man shrugged.

 

“You didn’t need to, s’my job to understand the things you don’t say out loud.”

 

The ticking of the clock grew louder, as his blood started heating up, filling him with anger.

 

_Calm._

 

He had to look calm, unbothered, uninterested.

 

Zayn didn’t answer.

 

“You know-”

  
  
The man started, eyeing him with a weird expression as he leaned back.

 

“- you look as stiff as a fuckin’ pen, man.”

  
  
Zayn jaw tightened as he looked at him, raising an eyebrow.

  
“Do I?”  


Liam, ( _god, why did he even remember his name?)_ , chuckled, shaking his head.

 

“Yeah you do, didn’t know, there were still people sittin’ like that.”

  
  
It confused him, that he didn’t talk like them.

 

That he didn’t look like them, with his ripped jeans and the black jacket.

 

It made him angry, that he couldn’t predict his moves.

 

His thoughts.

 

But, also, it made him curious.

 

Curious, what it took, to break him.

 

“What is wrong with sitting straight?”

  
  
Zayn could hear him huffing, like he couldn’t believe his words.

 

Like he found them amusing.

 

_Prick._

 

“S’just that it looks like you got a fuckin’ stick shoved up yo ass.”

 

_Fucking american people and their accents._

 

Zayn shrugged.

 

“You think I don’t know that?”

  
  
His gaze wandered over the window behind the desk, eyeing the thick drops of rain splash against the glass, running over it like tears covering someone’s cheek.

 

“Why’d you sit like that, then?

  
  
Annoyed, Zayn shrugged again, not really wanting to continue talking to that prick.

 

He hated people like him.

 

Too curious, shameless and simply annoying.

 

Still not answering his question, Zayn crossed his legs, eyeing Liam with a blank expression.

 

_There you go, fucker, try read ‘what he doesn’t say out loud’ now._

 

Liam nodded, hiding his amused grin Zayn thought of wiping off his face, before he leaned forward, his elbows hitting the top of the table.

 

“As much as I’d love to continue that thrilling conversation, I’ve got stuff to do, things t’say, so wipe that amused grin off of ya face and listen.”

 

Zayn had to admit, he hadn’t seen that one coming.

 

“I don’t really want t’know what ya think of me an’ I don’t really care about yo damn company because you’re no different to any one else.”

 

 _Yeah, he should really tell that the press, the paparazzi and the tons of screaming fuckers in front of his house._ _  
_

 

“So, please, let’s get this fuckin’ over with.”

 

Zayn smirked.

 

“I’d _love_ that, Kian.”

 

He could see Liam’s brow twitch.

 

_Good._

 

“It’s _Sir_ to you, boy.”

 

Zayn swore, he could feel smoke escaping his nostrils as he glared at the man eyeing him with a smirk.

 

“That’s right, I’m older, so you'll dress me as either _Sir_ or  _Mr Payne_ , get that?”

  
  
Even though Zayn despised it, he could feel himself nodding, too concentrated to calm himself down.

 

To not explode.

 

“Alright, let’s get to ma first question, ‘cause we all know that one was comin’ eventually-”

 

His fingers landed on one of the written notes on his paper and he raised his eyebrows, sighing, like he hated doing this, but Zayn knew better.

 

He knew, the man loved it the second the question escaped his lips.

 

“What the hell’s wrong with ya, man?”

 

_“What?”_

  
  
Zayn couldn’t help himself, the word escaped his lips without him being able to control it.

 

Like he couldn’t control the venom drenching it.

 

Or the angry glimmer on his face.

 

“Yeah, I mean, you got yo life figured out, man, you lead a fuckin’ company, everyone loves yo ass and one day you are going to fuckin’ _drown_ in money, so why the _fuck_ are you here?” 

 

That was it.

 

His eyes darkened and he raised, towering over the sitting man, even though he knew the man in front of him was far more muscular than he was.

 

But he didn’t care.

 

His hands were balled to fists, his teeth gritted together, as he swallowed the venom sitting on the top of his tongue, urging to escape.

 

But all he did was turn around in silence, slamming the door shut without looking back once.

 

Because he was a professional.

 

He wasn’t supposed to scream at that man, no matter how much he despised his face, no matter how bad he wanted to slap him and no matter how much he provoked him.

 

Because that was, what his mask was for.

 

Cold.

  
Hard.

 

Without any emotions.

 

Zayn didn’t hear the small “See you next week” whispered after him and he didn’t see the exhausted look on Liam's face, replacing his smirk the second Zayn had left the office.

 

And he wasn’t supposed to.

 

+++

 

Zayn had been sure, he would never have to see Liam again.

 

He had been confident, a new woman would be sitting behind the desk in Office One, but as soon as he stepped into the office, his watchful eyes noticed the blue pen lying on the floor, reminding him of their first encounter.

 

He sighed, shaking his head, before he sat down, gazing at the empty chair in front of him.

 

Then, he waited.

 

Five minutes.

 

Ten.

 

Fifteen.

  
Still, he sat there, not changing the position he sat in because after the first ten minutes had passed, he had been sure, the man was testing him.

 

Tempting him, with the opened map on the brown table.

 

But Zayn wasn’t stupid.

  
  
God, no, he wasn’t.

 

Working as a business man had taught him many things, like patience, calmness and, most important, not to cheat.

 

Not to spy.

 

Not to make a mistake that could have consequences which every single eventually led to.

 

He had avoided many traps like this.

 

People trying to tempt him, trying to make him fail.

 

He had destroyed every single one of them.

 

In his own way.

 

“Mr Malik!”

 

Zayn didn’t turn, as the door opened, a grinning Liam stepping into the office, looking at him with a joyful gleam on his face, like he was happy to see him.

 

Even though he seemed amused to Zayn, which started to annoy him right away.

 

Not that he showed that.

 

He nodded.

 

“Good evening.”

 

Liam stopped in his track, cupping his ear with his hand.

 

“What was that?”

  
  
Zayn's jaw tightened for a second, before relaxing once again.

 

He had himself under control.

 

“I said _Good Evening._ ”

 

Liam smirked at him, burying his hands in the pocket of his dark blue parker.

 

“Good Evening _what_?”

  
  
Slowly, Zayn took a deep breath.

 

_Calm down._

 

“Good Evening, _Sir_ .” 

 

It took much, not to spit at the man’s feet as he grinned at Zayn.

 

“That’s ma boy.”

  
  
_God, he hated him._

 

Zayn's brown eyes followed the tall man as he plumped down on his seat, yawning and rubbing over his eyes, like _he_ was the one having one hell of a day.

 

Zayn stopped himself from huffing.

 

No day was like his.

 

Getting up at 4 a.m., going for a quick run, getting dressed, rushing into the first meeting, correcting people, clearing up other’s messes, taking phone calls, catching up with the news until the next meeting started.

  
Without a break.

 

Without getting to eat.

 

Barely time for a drink.

 

One couldn’t blame Zayn for the dark rings under his eyes, covered by nothing less than make up.

 

He sometimes had to laugh at himself.

 

How pathetic he was.

 

“Let’s get started with our happy hour, ‘aight?”

 

Zayn raised an eyebrow.

 

“Happy hour?”

 

Liam nodded, leaning back and pulling out a pack of smokes.

 

“Every one has t’say somethin’ good ‘bout his day.”

  
  
He placed a cigarette between his pink lips and smirked at him.

 

“What if I don’t have anything good to say?”

  
  
Zayn's face was emotionless as he talked, hiding the tiredness that made his bones heavier, his movements harder and every blink of his eyes painful.

 

Liam shrugged.

 

“S’not my problem, those are the rules. Happy hour.”

  
  
His long fingers flicked the lighter and Zayn caught a quick glimpse of a tattoo covering the back of his hand.

 

He didn’t care to ask.

 

Zayn's eyes darted to the white stick between Liam's lips and his nostrils caught the sour smell of the rising smoke.

 

He swallowed a lump forming in his throat and looked at the thick clouds raising in front of Liam's face, his stare intense.

 

“You want one?”

  
  
Slowly, Zayn shook his head.

 

Liam nodded in approval.

 

Like he already knew he'd decline.

 

“Two years clean, huh?”

  
  
Zayn suddenly felt the urge to escape from this room, the familiar burn in his lungs as he caught the smell of the rising smoke and Liam's chocolate brown eyes.

 

“Three years.”

  
  
He cleared his throat.

 

“It’s been three years.”

  
  
Liam nodded, again.

 

Zayn hoped he’d get dizzy from the constant nodding.

 

“Impressive.”

  
  
Sighing, Zayn shuffled in his seat, glancing at the watch on his left hand.

 

“Stop crawling and get to the point.”

 

He didn’t mean to sound this rude.

 

But, fuck, he did.

 

Liam tapped at the table, sucking at the cigarette’s butt.

 

“Right, happy hour.”

  
  
Zayn snorted silently.

 

_Happy hour._

 

Pathetic.

 

Silence started spreading between them, before Liam sighed, cigarette between his lips.

 

“You want me t’start or?”

  
  
“No.”

  
  
Zayn shook his head.

 

He wanted to get this over with.

 

“I-”

  
Zayn stopped, thinking about something good he could drench out of his horrendous day and then shrugged, sighing quietly.

 

“I guess my breakfast was fine.”

  
  
Liam started coughing, looking at him with wide eyes.

 

For once, his face wasn’t covered in a mocking grin.

 

“Your _breakfast_?”

  
  
Again, Zayn shrugged.

 

Liam ran his fingers down his face, shaking his head whilst he laughed quietly.

 

“Really, m’sorry, dude.”

  
  
Zayn cocked his head.

  
  
“For what?”

  
  
Liam's cheeks hollowed around the white stick, before he stomped it out on the wooden table. The soft pitter patter of the raindrops knocking against the window was the only noise filling Zayn's ears for Liam did nothing but stare at him.

 

Like he wanted to look at him.

 

The real him.

 

Deep inside his mind.

 

Inside the mind of his.

 

He couldn’t help but shudder, wanting to break the silence between them.

 

Liam cleared his throat, voice raspy of the thick smoke that had filled his lungs.

 

“Well let’s get to my happy part of the day.”

  
  
His raspy voice made Zayn's eyes widen a little bit and he couldn’t stop staring at his tongue, the way it moistened Liam's bottom lip, sliding over it like preparing it for being touched. For being trapped between teeth, for letting breathless moans escape until-

 

“My last coffee maybe. No, wait, someone put salt in it, that one was awful.”

  
  
Zayn forced himself to look away from Liam's pink lips and the way they moved when he talked.

 

“Maybe t’was when I woke up at two a.m. knowing I got three hours left to sleep.”

  
  
He chuckled, fingering in his pocket to place another cigarette between those pink lips.

 

“Guess m’not the only one havin’ a shitty day, huh?

 

Zany simply shrugged.

 

It was followed by a sigh.

 

“Listen there, boy, it gets kinda boring talkin’ to a brick wall, so would ya _please_ say anythin’ but _yes_ and _no_?”

  
  
Zayn's fingers started tapping on his leg, glancing at his watch.

 

A watch worth more than the entire furniture filling this room.

  
  
“No.”

  
It was simple, like that.

 

“What’re ya still doin’ here then?”

 

Liam glanced at him with raised eyebrows and a lighter in his face, lighting the head of his cigarette.

 

Zayn paused, cocking his head, before he pressed his lips together, shaking his head in wonder.

 

“I’m not really sure.”

 

Liam's raspy chuckle followed by a cough filled the room.

 

“Thought so.”

 

And they sat there in silence.

 

+++

 

“Y’know, this is the fifth fuckin’ session with you and all I know ‘bout you, is that you’re not that much of a speaker.”

  
  
Liam played with the lighter in his hands, flicking it on and off like a child does after discovering how to turn on a lamp.

 

He had been pacing around like a nervous cat, not standing still since the second Zayn had entered the office.

 

It made his lips twitch, his legs itchy and he himself started feeling nervous, feeling the urge to either lean back or stand up and move.

 

But he could do neither.

 

So he crossed his arms after adjusting his tie and shrugged, something he found himself doing a lot during the hours passing in Office One.

 

“Why don’t you go look in that smart folder of yours? You got my whole life printed in there, what else do you want from me?”

  
  
He felt himself getting frustrated, uncareful with his words.

 

Reckless.

 

Not as calm as he wished himself to be.

 

Liam pointed the lighter at him.

 

“You think I give a flyin’ fuck about yo past? No, I want to know something _real._ ” 

 

Zayn chuckled, amused and annoyed at the same time.

 

“And why should I tell you anything like that?”

 

Liam slammed the lighter on the table, shrugging out of his black black Jacket.

 

“I dunno, y’can ask me somethin’, too, I guess.”

  
  
He held back a snort.

 

“I’m not the guy behind the table, am I?”

  
  
Suddenly, he could see Liam's eyes light up as he strolled towards him, making Zayn's hands twitch in nervousness. Soon, Liam's big hands gripped his with silk covered arm and pulled him up rather harshly.

 

Zayn yelped, shoving him away with an angry frown which didn’t seem to bother Liam one bit as he slumped down on the chair Zayn had been sitting on.

  
“What are you doing?” 

 

Gritting the words though his teeth, Zayn stared down at him for the first time since their encounter. He had always been the one Liam had to look down at and he felt a slight rush of satisfaction spreading in his body as he looked down at the man.

 

“We’re switching seats.”

  
  
“But-”

  
“C’mon, live a little you scared piece of shit.” 

 

Zayn glared at him, turning around and sitting down on the huge chair behind the table, slowly, but with a determined stare into Liam's challenging eyes.

 

It was weird, looking at the room from this perspective and Zayn started eyeing Liam in front of him, suddenly seeming smaller.

 

No, _he_ felt bigger, like he was in charge this time.

 

And, fuck, sometimes he hated being in charge, but this time, it felt different.

 

Like he got something, he’d always wanted.

 

Liam blinked at him lazily.

  
“Go ahead.”

  
“What.” 

  
“Ask me somethin’.” 

 

Zayn had a short battle whether to lean back into the comfort of the soft material behind him and finally, his tired back won and his body relaxed, slightly sinking into the chair.

 

Liam didn’t miss the soft sigh of relief escaping Zayn's lips whilst Zayn didn’t catch the short triumph in Liam's eyes, vanishing the second it appeared.

 

“I’m waitin’ over here.”

  
  
Zayn's thoughts rushed.

 

Did he want to get to know him?

 

No.

 

But did he want to _know_ something about that man?

 

Fuck, yes.

 

So, he leaned back even more, linking his fingers and smirking slightly, his voice rising in a mocking tone.

 

“It’s a very _sweet_ pleasure to meet you, I hope you don’t mind me asking you a few questions, darling? How are you doing? How is your mental state? I am here to help you, you can trust me, I swear!” 

 

And maybe, his voice got even higher, mocking almost every woman that had been sitting in the very chair Zayn was slumping in at that moment.

 

And maybe, he started smiling at the barking laugh escaping Liam's mouth and the slight crinkle in the corner of his brown eyes.

 

“Please tell me I wasn’t like that on my first session!”

  
  
Zayn felt the corners of his mouth rise as he shook his head.

 

“You weren’t like that on your first session.”

  
  
“Thank fuckin’-”

  
  
“In fact,-”, Zayn continued with a smirk, “- you were worse.”

  
  
Liam faked a hurt gasp, pressing his palm against his chest.

 

Of course Zayn certainly did _not_ notice the muscles pressing against the tight, white fabric.

 

But, fuck, he did.

 

“Zayn Malik, I am _offended_ !” 

 

And for once, he wasn’t offended by being called Zayn.

 

He hadn’t heard that name for a while and, somehow, it sounded nice.

 

“You should be, _Sir_.”

  
  
Again, Liam started laughing.

 

“Don’t remind me!”

 

Again and again, Zayn felt the smile creep up his lips and after the hour was over, he raised, grabbing his jacket as usual and started opening his mouth for a Goodbye, when Liam interrupted him.

 

He hated that.

 

“I uh - I was just headin’ to a bar, y’know? With a few friends of mine and, y’know, maybe you want to hang out for a little while or somethin’?”

  
  
Zayn stopped in his tracks, eyeing Liam in front of him, the his hand scratching his neck, like he was nervous.

 

Liam had never been nervous around him before.

 

Annoyed, angry, bored - yes.

 

But nervous? Never.

 

And, deep down, Zayn was tempted to say yes.

 

To agree and let go for a few hours, but he couldn’t.

 

Those times, hanging out in bars, not giving a shit and being careless - they were over a long time ago and after Zayn had shook his head no, slamming the door shut, he started wondering if those times had ever even started.

 

+++

 

Zayn didn’t show up the week after that.

 

Why?

 

Stress.

  
Exhaustion.

 

The strength leaving him, as he got home, breaking down and falling to the floor with a whimper.

 

He had spent that day in bed, rolled up into a small ball of pain and restless hours of falling asleep only to wake up after a few minutes.

 

Again and again, until he felt even more tired than before.

 

The days had passed in a blur, the rings under his eyes had darkened and his temperament had shortened, snapping at his assistant, only to apologize seconds later, her pitying gaze following him through the day.

 

Meeting after meeting, he had managed to hide under his mask, until, on Thursday, he had stormed out of his office, fisting his hair as he drove to the white building he despised as much as his work.

 

He knew, no one would care about his small burst, but he felt disappointed, angry with himself as he shoved the door to Office One open, not caring to wait until the speakers called his name.

 

Even though seconds later, he regretted that decision as he had been blind to the **_DO NOT DISTURB_ ** sign hanging on the door and he had been deaf to the moans leaking through the wall.

 

And now, he was standing there, eyeing Liam and the shocked blonde woman covering her chest with her tiny, pale arms.

 

Liam's pink lips were swollen, a hickey covering his neck that he didn’t care enough about to cover it. All he did was stand there, not looking at the woman wiping over her cheeks as she grabbed her white blouse, jumping off the messy table and mumbling soft apologizes, tears swimming at the brim of her eyes.

 

It was a mess, the woman nearly tripping, as she passed him, eyeing him with slight fear, Zayn still not moving an inch and Liam wiping over his lips like he had simply spilled a bit of water.

 

It made Zayn's vision darken, the grip of his fist tighten and his lips press together even harder.

 

The door closed with a soft clicking noise, leaving the thick tension between the two men in the open as they stared at each other.

 

“You-”, Zayn breathed, his body shaking, the last bit of control he had owned disappearing as he took two huge steps forward, shoving Liam against the wardrobe behind him, his forearm against his throat.

 

Anger, built up by the stress he had felt his week, the frustration of failing and the sudden hate towards the brown haired man made his breath fasten and his grip around Liam's biceps tighten as he stared him down.

 

Their heavy breaths mixed, as Liam tried to shove him off, leading to Zayn stumbling backwards, only to be yanked right into Liam's hard chest again, their chests not being the only ones colliding.

 

Liam's lips were chapped.

 

Rough against Zayn's pink, soft ones, but their colliding teeth equal in frustration.

 

Zayn's eyes squeezed shut, as Liam's rough palms gripped his jaw, before locking their mouths again, a burning fire spreading in Zayn's body.

 

Hot, hot skin against his.

 

An unwilling moan escaped his lips, a following tongue licking into his mouth, teeth grazing over his lips.

 

It was nothing but raw lust filling his veins, leading their kiss, their hands, as they pressed their hard chests together, clenched muscles colliding like their swollen lips did, again and again, not willing, not _able_ to stop themselves.

 

“You-”

 

Zayn tried talking against Liam's mouth, interrupting himself again and again by smashing his mouth on Liam's, feeling the urge to get _closer, closer_ every time they parted.

 

“You little - _fuck_ -” 

 

A moan, too loud and too turned on left with his breath as Liam started leaving open mouthed kisses on his jaw, teeth nipping on his skin, a little too harsh but still sending waves of pleasure to his fattening cock.

 

He could feel Liam grin against his skin.

 

The grin, Zayn had learned to hate.

 

And maybe to love, just a little bit.

 

“Stop _fucking_ grinning against - against my fucking-” 

 

Frustrated, Zayn shoved his crotch against Liam's lower half, trying to release some of the pressure raging in his blood.

 

“Fucking - _fucking_ touch-”

 

His breath was ragged and he could hear Liam chuckle, low and with a voice rough like sand scraping over grey stone, fingers scratching over Zayn's neck.

 

Lower.

 

_Lower and lower, unbuckling Zayn's expensive pant like opening a bottle of wine._

 

_Easy._

 

_And fast._

 

_Impatient._

 

Zayn rolled his eyes in pleasure, as Liam's fingers traced over the outline of his cock, softly palming him through the material, but _soft_ was the last thing Zayn wanted.

 

He needed it _rough_.

 

 _Fast_.

 

Without thinking.

 

He pulled at Liam's belt, nearly ripping apart the lopes they were tangled in and tried pulling down his pants in the same pace, Liam's hands shoved into his black boxers, finally touching his hard erection.

 

Sending sparks.

 

Pleasure.

 

Waves.

 

Rough beard scratching against each other.

 

Cheek to cheek, as Zayn wrapped his hand around Liam's length, feeling it pulse under his touch, the thick veins covering it making him groan.

 

Pumping, pumping faster, until Liam slapped his hands away, loosening his own grip around Zayn's shaft.

 

He nearly groaned in frustration.

 

“You - _fuck_ , _yes_!”

  
  
Zayn couldn’t see Liam grinning, as his fingers formed a ring over their touching cocks, slowly starting to fuck into his own hand, his hot skin rubbing over Zayn's pulsing one.

 

He didn’t stop his hips from bucking, thrusting forward, the friction luring moans out of his swollen lips, his fingers gripping onto Liam's biceps.

 

_Harder, harder._

 

_Faster._

 

_Until oblivion._

 

Liam grunted, fingernails drawing little moons into the olive skin covering Zayn's bruised neck, not drawing back as Zayn bit into his fingers, hard, not caring about the whimper leaving the mans lips.

 

He needed it.

 

_Faster._

 

His cock fattened next to Liam's, their skin slapping against Liam's fist, until finally, Zayn groaned, loud and reckless, feeling his come spurt out, leaking the head of his twitching cock, running over Liam's tight fist, until he felt another hot liquid covering his own.

 

Not Zayn's.

 

_His._

  
  
Theirs.

 

Their breaths _united_.

 

Their eyes meeting.

 

_Guilt._

 

_Regret._

 

 _Lust, still lingering in them_.

 

Liam's fist loosened his grip, drew back under Zayn's narrowed eyes.

 

The office, seconds ago filled with moans, groans and the sound of slapping skin, now awfully quiet.

 

Liam sniffed, wiping his come, _their come_ , on Zayn's boxers, Zayn's throat too tight to protest.

 

Belts linked, pants pulled up, eyes looking everywhere but where they should.

 

Rough coughs, as Liam lit up a cigarette, inhaling the smoke like he had Zayn's breath minutes ago.

 

Zayn couldn’t watch him.

 

His lips.

 

Without remembering his taste.

 

Lingering on him.

 

His clothes.

 

His skin.

 

Everywhere.

 

Liam didn’t call him back as he left the Office.

 

Thoughts twirling, mask fallen.

 

Slightly.

 

+++

 

_And, fuck, he wished, he could get it out of his mind._

 

_Their united breaths._

 

_His chapped but sinful lips._

 

_And his intense, but thoughtful stare._

 

_But he couldn’t._

 

_It was stuck in his mind._

 

_The mind of his._

 

+++

 

Zayn entered the office seven days after without daring to look up.

 

His eyes staring at the sun freckled floor.

 

His expensive shoes.

 

Ashamed and, for once, not as controlled and confident as he liked to be.

 

He could hear him breath.

  
The chair squeak.

 

Feet tapping.

 

Noises drowning out the whirling storm inside him.

 

“Well-”

 

Zayn wasn’t the one who spoke up.

 

But he was the one who looked up, up until he saw his face.

 

And, fuck, if the sun covering it didn’t make him look beautiful.

 

Drawing golden lines on his skin.

 

Making his eyes glimmer as the brown drowned in sparkling streams of light.

 

“That is one hell of unprofessional, innit?”

 

Guilt, again.

 

Drawing lines on his neck, his cheeks.

 

Making him feel watched.

 

_Like everybody knew._

 

His thick eyebrows raised, a weak attempt to cover his uncomfortable shrug.

 

“And fucking one of your colleagues on your desk isn’t?”

 

“We didn’t-”

 

Liam stopped in mid sentence, knowing, that had Zayn walked in five minutes later, they probably would have.

 

So he remained quiet.

 

“You know, we have to talk about this.”

  
  
It was Zayn, who said it and it was Liam, who remained quiet again.

 

It bothered Zayn.

 

Made him angry, even though all he wanted was to be understood.

 

“I - I, okay, look, I’m sorry, okay?”

 

It was kinda his fault, he knew it, so he lowered his gaze, staring at the floor while he talked, something he thought he had stopped doing a while ago.

 

It was unprofessional.

 

But, to be honest, everything around Liam had become unprofessional the second they had shoved their tongues into each other’s mouths.

 

“I had a shitty day, okay? I - I-”

 

Stuttering.

 

Great.

 

He thought he had lost that ability, too.

 

“I was angry, I was _mad_ , and I just - I don’t know what I was thinking, because I-”

  
  
He swallowed, shaking his head with a soft movement before he adjusted the tie he’d love to simply rip off.

 

“I’m not - you know, I’m not-”

  
  
He couldn’t say it, sentence running into quietness.

 

Liam was nodding softly, as Zayn looked up.

 

“Yeah, me neither.”

 

_Didn’t seem like it last week though._

 

They avoided each other’s gazes, Zayn gazing out of the window, Liam staring at the table in front of him, probably counting the seconds like Zayn did.

 

The seconds until they could part ways again.

 

Or, maybe, the seconds, he had to close the door behind him again, leaving Liam nothing but a thought in his head until they saw each other again.

 

Maybe.

 

“What time is it?”

  
  
Zayn chuckled at Liam's weak attempt to joke and slowly leaned back, a habit he had caught up after their third meeting.

 

After he had realized, Liam didn’t really give a fuck about his seating habits.

 

“Happy Hour”, Zayn breathed, rubbing his sweaty palms together.

 

Liam plumped down in his seat.

 

“I’ll start.”

  
  
“You do that.”

  
  
Rolling his eyes, Zayn let his head sink onto the soft material of his chair, reminding him of the ones in his house.

 

The mansion he didn’t want to live in.

 

Too huge for one person.

 

Too expensive for a normal human being.

 

“I tripped over a damn dog lash t’day and nearly spilled my goddamn coffee.”

 

Zayn smiled, lazily, the thought of their dicks pressing against each other slowly fading from his thoughts.

 

“And what’s so good about that?”

 

Liam snorted.

 

“That I didn’t spill ma damn coffee.”

  
  
Small giggles bubbled up Zayn's throat and escaped in quiet laughter filling the room.

 

The sun beamed warm rays at his face, making his skin tingle in a comfortable way as he blinked against the light, his eyelashes drawing shadows on his tanned cheeks.

 

“Nothing compared to my happy hour today being-”

  
  
He hesitated, looked at Liam's crinkling eyes and then quickly banished the thought trying to fight its way into his brain.

 

_Right now._

 

_That was his happy hour._

 

But that thought was stupid.

 

Pathetic.

 

“- probably not running into someone dry humping on the desk again.”

  
  
He saw Liam grinning weakly, before sighing, leaning forward and opening his folder.

 

The fucking folder.

 

His lips tightened into a straight line, raising slowly and straightening his back.

 

Back to his defense position.

 

Liam looked guilty.

 

“Look, man, s’stupid, but I have t’ask you some questions, ‘kay?”

  
  
_No._

 

He simply stared at Liam with a look of disgust nearly breaking his blank surface.

 

He thought he was better than that.

 

Liam sighed.

 

“I hate it, too, ya know, but s’just that if I don’t get anythin’ out of yo mouth, they’ll make me switch clients.”

 

_Switch clients._

 

He breathed in some of the sticky air filling the room, exhaling it through his opening mouth.

 

Another woman.

 

Or man.

 

Nothing but predictable.

 

Another bunch of questions, cold stares, blank surfaces and pitiful stares,

 

No, he didn’t want that.

  
“Okay.” 

 

His voice quiet.

  
“I’ll answer you three questions.”

  
  
_Three._

 

Nothing more.

 

Nothing less.

 

“Okay”, Liam breathed, swallowing, before he straightened his back.

  
Defensive.

 

Guarded.

 

Like Zayn was.

 

Two hunters hunting.

 

Or maybe two rabbits being hunted.

 

“Let’s start with your family - do ya still talk to ‘em?”

  
  
Zayn blinked, inhaling and exhaling slowly, asking himself, why the fuck he was doing this.

 

But his lips parted.

 

“I - no, not really. My mother is, like, really busy and my sisters - well, uh-”

 

He cleared his throat.

 

“They don’t want to be seen with me.”

  
  
Liam stared at him with an undefinable expression covering his face.

 

Thoughtful?

  
  
Maybe.

 

Pitiful?

  
  
No.

 

“Why?”

  
  
Zayn shook his head.

 

“I - I don’t know.”

  
  
“You do.”

  
  
_Yeah, he did._

 

“They - they think I’m a living machine.”

  
  
He chuckled dryly, staring at Liam, like he’d have to prove him wrong.

 

That he wasn’t a machine.

 

He hated talking about it.

 

“Why would they think that?”

  
  
_It was the last question._

 

_It was alright._

 

_Almost over._

 

Zayn closed his eyes for a second, opening them slowly right after and blinked at Liam, gulping before he linked his fingers.

 

Rings connecting.

 

Fingers seeking for something to hold onto.

 

“Maybe because I don’t smile, laugh anymore? Maybe because I don’t visit anymore. I don’t know.”

 

_Yes, he did._

 

_They had called him._

 

_Crying._

 

_He hadn’t uttered a word._

 

_Ending the call with a silent cry, deep, deep inside him._

 

All Liam did, was nod.

 

Neither did he start to write, like he should, nor did he pity him, like he shouldn’t.

 

All he did, was nod.

 

+++

 

_Hours passed._

 

+++

  
_In silence._

 

+++

 

_Until they didn’t anymore._

 

“Where’s Liam?”

 

Zayn narrowed his eyes at the red headed man in front of him.

 

He didn’t mean to sound unprofessional.

 

Confused.

 

But he did, the second he entered the office.

 

Office One.

 

The man looked up, smiling his small lipped smile.

 

“He had to switch clients.”

  
  
_Switch clients._

 

“And why is that?”

  
  
Zayn sat down, back straight, face emotionless.

 

Defensive.

 

Looking at that sickly sweet smile.

 

“He didn’t get the expected results.”

  
  
_Expected results._

 

Zayn inhaled.

 

Exhaled.

 

_He hadn't told them._

 

Thick, american accent in his head.

 

Rough laughs, coughs.

 

White smoke.

 

As he stared at the red hair.

 

_Switched clients._

 

He heard a pen clicking.

 

A silent signal, to start.

 

_3, 2, 1 go._

 

“Well - it’s a very nice pleasure to meet you, Zayn - I hope you don’t mind-”

 

He stopped listening.

 

Gazing out.

 

The office fading.

 

A slow smile on his lips.

 

_A raging storm in his mind._

 

+++

 

He sat in his office, exactly one week later, staring at the ticking clock.

 

Zayn should have been there, in front of a new man (or woman?), guarded and emotionless, but he didn’t have the strength to.

 

All he could do was sit.

 

He felt exhausted.

 

Drenched.

 

Sitting there, in his expensive suit, on expensive furniture, suddenly feeling trapped between the money dripping from his surroundings.

 

It made him sick.

 

But what could he do?

 

He was _Malik_ , son of his father, founder of this company, and to say the expectations in him were high was an understatement.

 

He was _meant_ to do this job.

 

Even though, it was the last thing he had wanted to do.

 

Hell, even a job as a waiter would be more perfect, but he had never uttered a word.

 

To anyone.

 

Suffering in silence.

 

It was all he had, by now.

 

No family.

 

Barely any friends.

 

Nothing to hold on to.

 

No one to share his thoughts with.

  
He closed his eyes, eyelids heavy, his body tired. 

 

All he wanted, was peace.

 

It was all he ever longed for, but it was also the only thing he couldn’t get.

 

His phone buzzed.

 

He turned it off.

 

_Peace._

 

_Quietness._

 

His eyes snapped open the second the door did.

 

“Yes?”

 

 

His secretary smiled at him.

 

Pitiful.

 

He hated it.

 

“There is someone here to see you.”

  
  
Zayn shook his head.

 

_No, no, no._

 

“Does he have an appointment?”

  
  
Blonde hair bobbing, as she shook her head no.

 

“Said he doesn’t need one.”

  
  
_Everyone needed an appointment to see him._

 

He sighed.

 

Deep breaths.

 

Back straightening.

 

“Let him in.”

  
  
All he could do was wave, a weak motion with his heavy hand.

 

He could do this.

 

He had to.

  
Steps, coming closer.

 

Until the door opened.

 

Zayn's face went blank.

 

Waiting for the soft clicking of the door.

 

He never expected the loud slam, as the door crashed open.

 

Zayn winced at the noise, looking up.

 

“Who the fuck-”

 

The words got stuck in his throat.

 

Liam simply grinned at him, slamming the door close behind him.

 

“Sup you little shit?”

  
  
There he stood, in his ripped clothes, black jeans, black tee, a snapback tucked over the wild strands of brown hair, covering his head in a mess.

 

Hands in his pockets.

 

Smiling.

 

A warm, honest smile, eyes crinkling, skin glowing.

 

And maybe, maybe Zayn started smiling back, raising from his seat, his suit a contrast to Liam's black clothing, like a smooth stone on hard, stony cliffs.

 

Any maybe, just maybe, his heart started pumping a little faster, as their brown eyes met, mischief meeting fading stiffness, replaced by a sparkling joy.

 

Sparkling, like golden rays of sunlight dancing over the smooth water surface kissing the beach.

 

Because, deep inside, Zayn knew, that, maybe, Liam was the person who’d listen to his thoughts.

 

To his stories.

 

Feelings.

 

Listen to him, opening his mind.

 

The mind of his.

 

_“Open up and see what’s inside of my, my mind”_

 

_+_

**END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I'm sorry this was kinda rushed but I didn't want it to be that long and yes, Liam has an American accent in this story. It's hot. Fight me.)


	2. PILLOWTALK

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This short story is based on the second song in Zayn's album, Pillowtalk (one of my favs tbh) and yeah.
> 
> Enjoy xx

**“Light and dark”**

 

Liam loved the way the city looked like at night.

 

Small, sparkling bolts lighting up every time a car raced over the dark streets.

 

A flashing light.

 

Followed by darkness.

 

It also seemed rather beautiful to him, the way the lanterns next to the streets seemed to shed their warm light like they were the suns of the night.

 

The moons of the day.

 

He blinked.

 

Breath white against the sharp, cold air.

 

He felt the cold steel under his fingers as he tightened his grip around the railing, burning into his flesh with its icy surface.

 

A slow burning.

 

A burning he felt himself enjoy every passing second.

 

It scared him.

 

Even though he didn’t care enough to move.

 

Under his feet, a screaming darkness.

 

Trying to reach out to him.

 

Call him.

 

Trying to tempt him.

 

_ Jump, jump, jump. _

 

But he held his gaze fixed on the streets.   


 

Far, far away from him.

 

Little play cars led by dolls, in a small, tiny world, far, far away from him.

 

Like looking at a little universe, seemingly close, but too far to reach out to.

 

Liam adored the many lights covering the streets of the city, whether shedden by windows, lanterns or simply street signs. They seemed to kiss the darkness, decorating the night’s black coat with life, light and joy.

 

Like flowers, bringing life into a dull yard.

 

He sighed.

 

Exhaling a cloud of white smoke.

 

His lips chapped.

 

Cold, without his touch.

 

_ His lips kissing him into oblivion. _

 

_ Kissing away the coldness, until all he could taste was the nectar of his skin. _

 

Liam hoped, he’d come home soon.

 

At least, he thought he did so.

 

The mansion was too huge for one single person, rooms gaping open every time Liam entered them.

 

The emptiness screaming at him with silent screams.   


 

_ So silent. _

 

His day.

 

Liam hated being alone.

 

Having nobody to talk to.

 

But Liam had never opened his mouth in complaint, either too scared to look up or too happy to look down.

 

_ He’d come home soon. _

 

_ Jump, jump, jump. _

 

Darkness screaming still.

 

But his felt oblivious to the darkness’ screams as he stared straight ahead. A plane, high up in the sky fading to a small, glowing point.

 

A moving star, fading into its background, until it was one with all the other stars blinking up there.

 

Its uniqueness gone.

 

Faded, not visible for the other stars blinked as bright and as beautiful as it did.

 

Liam's skin started prickling.

 

A rush of warm air disturbing his ball of coldness.

 

He closed his eyes.

 

_ He knew, he’d come back. _

 

_ Back home. _

 

The darkness under his feet started fading away, drawing back its sticky arms, silencing its screams.

 

And Liam waited for his arms, his body pressed against his back, warming his cold skin.

 

He waited for him to breath into his neck, soft lips dancing, pressing soft kisses on his neck, shoulders, anywhere they could reach.

 

He waited for his heart to come home.

 

Liam could hear the soft noise of his steps, slow and careful like he was afraid to disturb him.

 

_ Like he was afraid. _

 

Liam was sure he wasn’t.

 

He never was.

 

_ Come closer, closer, closer until I can mend in your touch. _

 

Lyrics chanting in his head.

 

Soft and tender.

 

Like the pair of arms, sneaking its way around his chest.

 

Tattooed fingers linking with his cold hands.

 

Pulling him closer into a lean chest.

 

Making Liam able to breath again.

 

_ Inhaling and Exhaling. _

 

Inhaling his kisses, mumbled words.

 

Exhaling his previous thoughts. Fears. Complaints.

 

Because, after all, Zayn was his light.

 

His dark.

 

_ His everything. _

 

Without Zayn, his darkness would be without light.

 

But without Zayn, Liam's light would also be without darkness.

 

_ Light and dark. _

 

_ Hold me hard and mellow. _

 

+++

 

**“Nobody but you, ‘body but me, ‘body but us, bodies together"**

 

Liam lay awake, eyes wide open that night.

 

Their naked bodies tangled, thin sheet barely covering their exposed skin.

 

Still traces from their lingering kisses, needing grips and nipping teeth.

 

_ Their marks. _

 

_ Their signs. _

 

_ United on the canvas they called their skin. _

 

But still, Liam lay awake, Zayn's black hair tickling his chin, his arms locked around his slender waist.

 

Seeming so small, so innocent, when he was asleep.

 

Like he couldn’t rip his heart in two pieces only to mend them back together in a second.

 

Like he didn’t carry Liam's heart, right there under the white wings inked on his tanned chest.

 

_ Like he couldn’t destroy him in a heartbeat. _

 

He raised his hand and gazed down at the sleeping man curled up against his chest.

 

Lashes drawing shadows on his cheeks.

 

Shadows, dancing under his slow breathing.

 

Liam’s fingers started running over Zayn's jetblack hair, softly curling his hand around the thick strands, remembering the way he had pulled at them screaming in pure lust hours ago.

 

His fingertips kissed his neck with soft, tender touches.

 

Feeling the hot skin exposed like the rest of his body.

 

Given to him with nothing but pure trust.

 

Naked and raw.

 

Red.

 

A red spot, right there under his left ear shell.

 

Liam didn’t mean to look.

 

He didn’t mean to touch the sensitive skin, reddened by biting teeth, teeth that weren’t his.

 

He really didn’t mean to cry.

 

Not stopping the silent tears running over his skin.

 

“Zayn.”   


 

His head met the pillow again, drops of salty liquid drawing wet spots on the white sheets as he called him.

 

Softly.

 

Not meaning to sound this broken.

 

“Zayn, wake up.”

 

He could feel his awakening body move, small groans leaving those beautiful red lips, coloured like a ripe cherry on top of a creamy cup of whipped cream.

 

Zayn's fingers started moving, holding onto his back, softly starting to draw lines on it, leaving prickling traces as Liam listened to the man’s fastening breaths.

 

“Liam.”   


 

Voice thick, drenching with sleep and dizziness, rough and sweet altogether like whiskey flavoured candy.

 

Eyelashes danced, swept until they revealed a pair of sparkling eyes, gold drowning in a sea of brown.

 

“Why aren’t you asleep?”   


 

A small kiss pressed on his bare chest.

 

Liam pulled him closer.

 

_ Even though it was never close enough. _

 

_ Never enough. _

 

“Liam?”

  
  
Zayn tried raising his head, failing as his sleepy bones pulled him down again, making him groan in his pillow.

  
  
“What time’s it?”

  
  
Liam pressed his lips against Zayn's black hair, mumbling softly.

 

“Three a.m.”

  
  
He could hear Zayn sigh.

 

Exhausted.

 

Maybe a hint of annoyance leaking it.

 

But, still, his body was pressed against his.

 

Not moving an inch.

 

“Zayn, I-”

  
  
He spoke with a quiet, hushed voice, afraid to chase away the rest of sleep drowning in Zayn's eyes as he felt his heartbeat fasten.

  
  
“A-am I-”

  
  
Tripping over his own words, his throat dry.

 

“Yes?”   


 

Words followed by kisses, on his neck, his chest his arms.

 

Still wrapped around him, right where they should be.

 

_ It calmed down his hitching breath, the way their bodies fit together beautifully. _

 

“Am I the only one for you?”

  
  
Tears spilling, as his fingers softly touched Zayn's neck.

 

Near the hickey, the mark.

 

The mark he didn’t create.

 

So foreign, on the canvas he thought he’d owned.

 

Golden, wide opened eyes stared at him.

 

Was there guilt in it?

  
  
Maybe.

 

Regret?

  
  
He didn’t know.

 

For his sight was blurred by salty tears.

 

“Liam, I - w-why are you crying?”

 

Hurt leaked in his voice, as Zayn raised his head, fingers reaching out to touch Liam's cheek.

 

Flinching, as Liam turned away.

 

_ Even though all he longed for was to lean into his touch. _

 

_ To forget. _

 

Zayn looked almost as broken as him, moonlight bright on his back, leaking through the half opened curtains.

 

“It meant nothing, Liam.”

  
  
_ He never denied. _

 

_ Not covering the regret leading his soft words. _

 

Liam's bottom lip trembled, heart beating a hurting, slow rhythm.

 

Tears still wet on his cheeks.

 

“She doesn’t mean anything to me, Liam.”

  
  
It would be so easy.

 

So easy, to forget.

 

But all Liam saw, was her lips on his canvas, nipping and marking, leaving her scent all over Zayn's beautiful body.

 

“It was a small scene, nothing more than five minutes.”

  
  
_ A scene he’d have to watch. _

 

_ Like everyone else. _

 

_ Staring at the screen. _

 

_ Looking at her marking his canvas. _

 

“I - I hate her, Zayn.”

  
  
And he did.

 

With every fibre of his beating heart.

 

Zayn didn’t answer, simply pulling him into a wet hug, their cheeks colliding, faces pressed into each other’s necks.

 

Raw and open.

 

“You’re the only one, Liam.”

  
  
Soft lips touching his skin, like a promise.

 

“Only you, Liam.”

  
  
Fingers tangled.

 

Looking for something to hold on to.

 

“Only you, Zayn”, he breathed, closing his eyes.

 

Holding him there, in his arms, drying tears on their skin, sweat and the raw smell of sex still lingering in the air.

 

_ The place that feels the tears. _

 

_ The place to lose your fears. _

 

+++

 

**“I’m seeing the pain, seeing the pleasure”**

 

Liam woke up, because everything around him was quiet.

 

Too quiet.

  
Too cold.

 

Alone.

 

His eyes fluttered open, bones heavy and still itching to be stretched.

 

Cold air kissed his tanned skin, as he sat up, slowly, fingers rubbing over his tired eyes, until his gaze got stuck on the curled but empty sheets next to him.

 

Sighs left his mouth, mixing with the morning breeze blowing its smell through the opened window, as his fingers softly drove over the sheets next to him, feeling nothing but cold material.

 

They weren’t even warm.

 

He had left hours ago.

 

Sneaking out of the room.

 

Probably without even looking back.

 

Back at him sleeping.

 

Dreaming lips twitching, searching for his skin to kiss, his body to hold on to.

 

_ He felt dirty. _

 

Alone.

 

So alone.

 

The room stretching, widening into endless cliffs, until he was nothing but a small spot on the ground, worthless and tiny.

 

_ But he knew, where he was. _

 

_ He even knew the channel. _

  
  


**David C. - Movies, Stars & Co.**

  
  


Yes, he had learned to hate that name.

 

That show.

 

The people working there.

 

The people being interviewed.

 

_ “I believe you two are excited, to show that masterpiece, am I not right?” _ _   
_

 

Liam suddenly felt the need to puke, as he watched his man sit on that huge, black chair, arm lazily draped around the blonde, gorgeous woman next to him.

 

_ His man. _

 

Could he even call him that?   


 

Or had it never been  _ his _ man but  _ the _ man.  _ Her  _ man.  _ Their _ man.

 

He gripped the remote tightly, turning up the volume.

 

_ “- think, that Zee here isn’t even that excited, he has made far more bigger movies like this one, don’t you, Zayn?” _

_   
_ __   
She flashed her white teeth, grinning at Zayn, whilst Liam showed his teeth to growl at her, eyebrows pulled together.

 

_ Zee. _

 

_ “That’s not true now, I did not-” _

__   
  
Zayn's amused talk got interrupted by the black haired man interviewing the two, his body seated behind his desk.

 

Laughing his too loud, too wide mouthed smile.

 

_ “Stop lying to us, we all know you’re the star of not only this show but Hollywood in all its glory!” _

__   
  
The camera zoomed in at Zayn's lazy grin.

 

It made Liam's heart stutter, the way he drove his fingers through his hair, teeth scraping over his pink bottom lip.

  
_ “Okay, well, I did, but-” _

__   
  
He raised a finger.

 

_ “That doesn’t mean ‘m not lookin’ forward to his one, ‘s gonna be sick.” _   


 

The only one feeling  _ sick _ was Liam, clutching his stomach as his widened eyes stared at the way Zayn hand found its way to the blonde woman’s thigh stroking soft circles on her uncovered skin.

 

David C, host of the show and also known as C-Man, wiggled his eyebrows at the camera, his fingers clutching the crds on his tables.

 

Probably filled with jokes he was going to put into his sentences.

 

Making everyone laugh but Liam.

 

_ “After what I’ve heared - and we all know almost everything I hear is true-” _

  
  
Laughter already filling the room.

 

_ “- is that you two get along quite well on set? I heard the two of you are inseparable not only during your scenes together, which are, if I may say this, quite hot.” _

__   
  
Liam swallowed a lump forming in his throat, as he thought of the book he hadn’t been the only one reading, after hearing, that there would be a movie about it.

 

Words still haunting him in his sleep.

 

_ And he gripped her thighs, pressing lovely kisses on her reddened skin, right there under her sun kissed neck, leaving marks with the sweet taste of eternity on his tongue… _

 

_ “Of course, I mean we have to get along, don’t we?” _ _   
_

 

Long, but fake eyelashes touching reddened cheeks, nobody missing the wink she’d sent Zayn.

 

Red lips trapped between her teeth.

 

_ “But I’m sure you don’t mind that, Gi, do you?” _

 

Again, that horrible wiggle of David’s eyebrows, sending uncomfortable feelings through Liam's body.

 

_ Gi. _

 

_ Gigi. _

 

_ Model. _

 

_ Movie star. _

 

_ Right there, near Zayn's lap. _

 

Gigi laughed, voice clear and a tad higher than usual.

 

Her hand met Zayn's shoulder.

 

Touching him, like he was hers.

 

_ “Who wouldn’t? Look at him!” _

 

And Liam did.

 

Look at him.

 

At his eyes crinkling, white teeth shoving in a smile, that drove right into Liam's leaping heart.

 

_ He was beautiful and Liam wasn’t the only one knowing that. _

 

_ “Now, save the flirting you two, there are very jealous and young people in this audience.” _ _   
_

 

Liam could hear them laughing.

 

Even Zayn did, looking at the camera with a wink.

 

_ “I’m not sure if we can, but we’ll try!” _

 

Liam hugged his knees, trying to prevent his body from shaking as much as his hands did.

 

Eyes still fixed at the screen.

 

David adjusted his tie.

 

Grinning, like a frog.

 

_ “It is far too early to be joking like this, Zayn - but speaking of that, would you be in bed right now, if it wasn’t for the show?” _ _   
_

 

Zayn laughed.

 

_ Beautiful, still. _

 

_ “Probably, I love my bed far too much.” _ _   
_

 

Looking at the camera.

 

Was that a silent  _ sorry _ swimming in his eyes?

 

Swimming, like the tears at the brim of Liam's eyes?

 

_ “Sharing your bed with someone there, Zayn?” _

 

Liam's throat was dry.

 

It hurt.

 

But Zayn did nothing but smile.

 

Cocky, cheeky, shrugging.

 

_ “Maybe.” _

_   
_ __   
He could almost hear the crowd murmur, whisper, hush.

 

_ “Ooh - is there something you’re not telling us, Zayn? Or is it Gi waking you up every morning?” _

 

David leaned forward, adding a grinning _ At least, I hope she does. _

 

Zayn didn’t answer, simply looking up at Gigi, who was seated on the armrest of Zayn's black chair.

 

The crowd  _ aw _ ing.

 

Liam nearly puking in disgust.

 

_ “I did not hear a deny there - Ladies and Gentlemen, our dream of them together may be near to fulfilment!” _

 

Liam didn’t hear Zayn's answer, the remote slamming against the screen with a force that shoved it off the table, screen cracking as it hit the floor.

 

His sight darkened in anger and frustration as he got dressed, feet starting to bleed as he stomped over the broken glass.

 

_ But he barely felt the pain, for the pain raging in his chest was far bigger. _

 

_ Far harsher. _

 

_ Fresh. _

 

_ Bleeding. _

 

His hands gripping the steel as he left the house behind.

 

Along with shattered pieces of his heart.

 

_ My enemy. _

 

_ My ally. _

 

+++

 

**“Fucking and fighting on”**

 

He had stopped calling, five days after Liam had left.

 

Left the shattered pieces and the cold bed sheets.

 

How should he have known, he’d come?   


 

That he’d stand there, in his doorway like a beautiful, angry god?   


 

Clothes wet, sticking to his toned body, the smell of rain still lingering in the air.

 

_ How should he have known? _

 

Known, of the thick silence, that lay between them.

 

As they stared at each other.

 

“Leave.”

 

Liam's voice quiet, controlled but not hiding the anger and hurt leading his words.

 

Zayn looked up, stroking his hair out of his wet face.

 

_ Raindrops on his eyelashes. _

 

Dripping on his cheeks, as he shook his head.

 

“I won’t.”

 

Big, brown eyes staring at Liam, pink lips pressed together in a thin line.

 

_ His nose caught his rough scent, raw and manly, welcoming him as well as pushing him away. _

 

“Not until you talked to me.”

  
  
Liam huffed.

 

Fingers forming fists.

 

Flexing.

 

Urging to touch him.

 

_ It’s been too long. _

 

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

  
  
Zayn stepped closer.

 

Slamming the door shut.

 

Liam didn’t even flinch.

 

“Nothing to talk about?”   


 

Brown bambi eyes squinting into angry slits.

 

“Let’s not talk about you leaving then, you avoiding my phone calls and you fucking shutting me out for  _ days _ ! For days, Liam!”

  
  
Zayn's voice loud, filled with anger.

 

Covering the hurt leaking through.

 

The hurt, Liam didn’t listen to.

 

His own rage covering his ears.

 

His sight.

 

“You probably didn’t even notice because of that whore lying in your goddamn-”

  
Their yelling entangling.

 

“You have no  _ fuckin’ _ right to call her that!”   


 

Rage nearly pulled Liam into his knees in frustration.

 

“Why don’t you back to her then, huh? I don’t fucking care! Just leave, Zayn, just fuckin-”

  
  
He didn’t see Zayn jumping forward, gripping his shirt harshly to pull him closer, their teeth colliding along with their lips.

 

Lips, he knew like his own.

 

Lips he couldn’t not respond to.

 

Even if he wanted to.

 

His body wasn’t under his control as his lips parted in a moan, tongue licking into Zayn's mouth as his fingers fisted his black hair strands.

 

Liam bit the satisfied grin right off Zayn's lips, pulling at his hair harshly until Zayn cocked his head, making it easier for Liam to win dominance.

 

Hot breaths crashing on their skin.

 

Liam could feel Zayn's cock hardening as his hips thrusted forward against Liam's thigh, moaning without control, the soft noises swallowed by Liam's lips the second after.

 

Hands roaming over each others body.

 

Drinking in every inch their fingers could catch, touch and hold on to.

 

They stumbled backwards, lips locked, hands pressing their bodies closer together, heat travelling between them along with groans and grunts.

 

_ Want burning in their bloods. _

 

_ Need. _

 

_ It’s been too long. _

 

Liam's back hit the couch, knocking the air out of his lungs, before Zayn's mouth met his again, making it able to breathe again.

 

_ Breathe in his smell, his touch his kisses. _

 

Along his neck, teeth biting, teasing.

 

Zayn's hard body towering over his.

 

Thrusting his clothed cock against Liam's growing erection.

 

Fingers tangled in his hair.

 

He opened his eyes for a second.

 

Drinking in swollen pink of Zayn's lips, wet, his wet, messy hair crowning his head.

 

Liam blinked.

 

His body starting to shake, as Zayn buried his face in his neck.

 

_ No. _

 

Anger took over his thoughts again.

 

His hands shoved Zayn off, making him plump down on the floor, eyes widened, swollen lips parted in confusion, shock.

 

_ Anger _ .

 

Liam jumped up.

 

Stretching out his arms.

 

“S-stay away."

  
  
“Liam-”

  
  
Zayn raised, his legs wobbling, nearly tripping over the pillows sprawled across the floor.

 

“No, I hate you, I fucking hate-"

  
  
Nails sinking into his skin, as Zayn tried holding him back in frustration, smashing his lips on Liam's again, teeth colliding with his upper lip.

 

For a second, Liam's mouth responded, opening in a slight moan, before he shook his head again, pushing the black haired man away again.

 

Panting in disgust.

 

Disgusted that he was turned on by the way hot anger spread through his blood along with the red liquid escaping the wound Liam had left on Zayn's lips.

 

His eyes squinted again.

 

“You lied to me.”

  
  
Lips spatting out the words, hate dripping off Liam’s tongue.

 

“You told me she was nothing but a fucking  _ friend _ to you even if the whole world knew you were fucking her behind my back!”   


 

Zayn pulled at his hair with an angry groan.

 

“I am  _ not _ fuckin-”

  
“Stop _lying_!”   


 

His voice rough from all the screaming.

 

Stepping away with his fists clenching.

 

Ignoring the way Zayn's hard prick pressed against the fabric of his tight skinny jeans.

 

The way his own cock throbbed as Zayn kicked away the chair standing in his small living room.

 

Coming closer by the second.

 

“Why do you have to be so fucking stubborn?! I fucking told you there was nothing between Gi and me!”

  
  
Liam's whole body shook.

 

Veins popping out on his neck.

 

“ _ There you go with the fucking nicknames that slut-” _ _   
_

 

Zayn lunged forward, fist colliding with Liam's jaw.

 

Blood hot in his mouth, a sharp pain on his tongue.

 

“Stop  _ calling _ her that!”   


 

Liam screamed in frustration as Zayn gripped his biceps, holding him in place as he tried to free himself, tears suddenly hot on his cheeks.

 

“Then stop giving me a reason to! Stop fucking with my feelings and stop pretending that you love-”   


 

_ “Don’t you fucking dare, Liam James Payne!” _

 

He had never seen Zayn this angry before, his body suddenly limp under the raging boys grip.

 

Eyes widening as Zayn spat at him in disgust.

 

“Don’t you dare questioning my feelings towards you because you  _ know _ how much I fuckin’ love you and you  _ know _ I would do anything for your fuckin’ ass, even if you left me the last days in fucking pain, so get a fucking grip and kiss me because I swear to god if you won’t, I-”   


 

Liam silenced his angry words with a kiss much softer than the ones before.

 

Tears and blood mixing with their hot breaths.

 

The raging sea suddenly calm.

 

“I’m sorry”, he whispered.

 

_ Whimpered. _

 

Voice broken and hurt.

 

Icing the burning wounds he had left.

 

Along with his fingers roaming around Zayn's face.

 

Catching the few tears managing to slip out of his closed eyes.

 

He could feel Zayn's hands shaking, as they locked behind Liam's neck, their foreheads pressed together.

 

“I - I thought you left me, Liam.”

  
  
Eyes meeting.

 

“You were gone and I - I just-”

 

Liam shook his head, lips pressing against Zayn's hot skin, fingers in his hair.

 

“You know I wouldn’t.”   


 

Meeting his lips again.

 

Tongues meeting with a spark.

  
  
A soft moan.

 

“You know I can’t”, he breathed, pulling at Zayn's white shirt, until it landed on the floor with a soft thud.

 

Zayn nodded, breathless before he pressed his lips against Liam's neck, open mouthed kisses leaving a wet trail whilst Liam's hands pressed against the small of his back.

 

Pressing him closer.

 

_ Closer. _

 

Zayn's back hit the couch this time.

 

Softer.

 

Without the anger spreading through his body along the lust, the  _ want _ .

 

Liam licked his way along Zayn's neck, watched the way Zayn's eyes closed with a flutter, nails scratching at Liam's bare back.

 

Somewhere, on their way to the couch, Liam had lost his shirt.

 

And his pants.

 

His bulge prominent, cock urging to escape.

 

But he was patient, kissing and licking along Zayn's tattooed chest, tongue circling around Zayn's pink nipple.

 

His cock twitched at the sound escaping Zayn's lips.

 

“S-stop teasing Liam, fucking start-”

  
  
His lips met the v-lines point down Zayn's stomach, blowing wet but soft kisses on his tanned skin.

 

His fingers fumbling with his belt.

 

Pulling down Zayn’s skinny jeans, a giggle escaping his lips, as he nearly pushed Zayn off the couch along with his pants.

 

A giggle soon to be stuck in his throat, eyeing the outline of Zayn's painfully hard prick, pushing against the cloth covering it.

 

He looked up.

 

Meeting Zayn's dark eyes.

 

Silently asking for permission.

 

Permission, he had already given him, the second he had started rubbing himself along Liam's crotch.

 

“ _ Yes, fuck, yes, Liam fucking start already! _ ”

 

His voice impatient, whining and breathless.

 

A hint of roughness still lingering in it.

 

Liam nodded, slowly pushing down the thin material of his tight boxers.

 

Humming in satisfaction, as Zayn's prick slapped against his tan stomach, precum already wettening the head of his erection. Slowly he then wrapped his fingers around the shaft, feeling its hot skin under his touch, throbbing hard and ready.

 

Ready to be licked, fucked and teased.

 

His tongue darted out, head lowering, until he could taste Zayn under him, his groan in his eyes whilst he wrapped his lips around him, slowly taking in inch by inch.

 

Relaxing his jaw, his throat, until he didn’t feel any pain as Zayn's hips buckled forward, unable to control his need anymore.

 

“ _ Fuck _ , Liam I need to fuck your-”

  
  
He couldn’t even finish his sentence, before Liam started bobbing his head, meeting Zayn's thrusts as he started fucking his mouth.

 

Hard, frustrated thrusts, releasing all the friction that had built up the days they had been separated.

 

Separated by their anger, pride and hurt.

 

Zayn's fingers stopped his head with a soft, sweaty touch.

 

Eyes meeting.

 

“I - I want you to fuck me, Liam.”

  
  
Words sending hot sparks down his body, blood rushing towards his bulge.

 

He nodded, throat dry, as he pulled back, releasing him with a wet pop.

 

His fingers slowly circling around his hole.

 

Pushing in, as he tried getting rid of his briefs at the same time.

 

Zayn moaned, as he added a second finger.

 

Clenching around him.

 

Fucking himself down on his hands.

 

Liam's dick rubbing against the couch’s fabric.

 

“Zayn, I - I don’t got any-”

  
  
Voice scratchy, rough.

 

Zayn shook his head, eyes closed, hands clenching around the fabric underneath him.

 

“Doesn’t matter, I - I don’t care, just -  _ fuck-” _

 

Liam withdrew his fingers.

 

Positioning his throbbing cock, his head meeting Zayn's dripping hole.

 

Their eyes locked one last time.

 

_ “I love you.” _

 

Zayn's voice was quiet, tender.

 

_ Honest. _

 

Liam nodded, inhaling their mixed scent with a deep breath.

 

Mumbling a soft  _ I love you too _ before he pushed in.

 

_ It’s our paradise. _

 

_ It’s our war zone. _

 

+++

 

**“I love to wake up next to you”**

 

They woke up on the floor the morning after.

 

Skin sore, lips dry-kissed and bodies pressed together under a thin blanket.

 

Liam felt a slow smile creep up his lips, even though his back hurt along with his arm tucked under Zayn's head, all the blood drained from one side.

 

“Zayn.”   


 

Slowly, he tried removing his arm as he sat up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, laughing quietly as Zayn's hands tried pulling him down again, eyes squeezed shut, unwilling to wake up.

 

“Zayn, let go, I-”

  
  
“No!”

  
  
His eyes shot open.

 

Sleepy but also a little scared.

 

“Don’t leave.”

  
  
Nails sinking into his arm, drawing little white moons on his skin.

 

Liam leaned down again, smiling softly as he pressed his lips on Zayn's forehead.

 

“I won’t, ‘m only going to the loo, babe.”

  
  
Zayn's features relaxed as he slumped back down on the floor, wincing as he hit his head, but also smiling a small smile.

 

“Thank you.”

 

Slowly, Liam raised, slipping on his briefs and rubbing over his cold skin.

 

“For what?”

  
  
Zayn's eyes fluttered close again, already half asleep again, even though he managed to whisper the few words without mumbling.

  
  
“For not leaving while I was asleep.”

  
  
Liam looked down, guilt wrapping its icy fangs around his heart before he turned around, naked feet meeting the cold floor as he entered the small room his called his kitchen, eyes darting around until they found a clean cup in the mess around the sink.

 

He hadn’t done much the last days.

 

Thoughts always with Zayn.

 

His eyes.

 

His smile.

 

His anger.

 

The second he’d left him.

 

He shook his head, chasing away the unhappy thoughts as he started washing his hands, the cold water slowly awakening his sleepy body as he gulped down a few sips of the icy liquid.

 

His fingers were cold against the cup as he sat down on the chair next to the table standing in the middle of the kitchen. The wood felt cold against his thighs, like everything in this apartment.

 

He suddenly wondered, how he had not frozen to death the last few days, but then again he remembered doing nothing much but sit in bed, staring at the ceiling.

 

Hating himself.

 

His life.

 

His decisions.

 

Liam shuddered, suddenly realizing, how miserable he was without Zayn, without knowing, he’d slip into his bed at night, his scent in his nose when he woke up, a smile in his lingering kisses.

  
During their happy times, that is.

 

Because, fuck, they could fight.

 

Trash the apartment.

 

Throw things at each other.

 

And still, they had found back together every single time.

 

He had to admit he sometimes didn’t even know why.

 

Maybe because they couldn’t function without each other.

 

Maybe.

 

“Liam?”

  
  
Zayn's sleepy voice dragged across the kitchen, making Liam flinch before he turned around, smiling lightly at the half asleep man.

 

Eyes formed into thin slits, lips rosy and parted, eyelashes dancing across his cheeks as he blinked at him, slowly stepping closer.

 

“Why aren’t you still asleep?”

  
  
It was too early for Zayn to be awake.

 

Too early for a decent person to be awake, but somehow, sleep had left Liam's body, his muscles itching, itching for movement.

 

Zayn shrugged, nearly tripping over his feet, his butt landing on his lap, covered too by only his black briefs.

 

It was too early to be turned on by that.

 

_ Too early, Liam. _

 

“You didn’t come back ‘n I couldn’t sleep without you.”

  
  
Zayn's arms wrapped around Liam's neck, a quiet sigh leaving Zayn’s lips as he nuzzled his face into Liam's chest, breath hot on his naked chest.

 

Their bodies pressing together, trying to find a tad of heat on each others skin, trying to chase away the morning’s icy breath.

 

It was peaceful.

 

Their own, small bit of eternity.

 

Right there, in each other’s arms.

 

“I’m sorry, I - I couldn’t sleep.”

  
  
Zayn's hair tickled Liam, as he lowered his chin to place it on top of Zayn's head, arms locking around Zayn's waist, absentmindedly running his fingertips along the black lines inked on his chest.

 

“Something bothering you?”

  
  
Words mumbled against his skin.

 

The  _ No _ right there on Liam's lips, but he hesitated, brain working, as he caught up on a string leading to a thought, a question burning its way through his brain.

 

“Yeah, uh - actually, I-”

 

He stopped, hesitating, before deciding, to take advantage of the sleep still fresh in Zayn's eyes, probably slowing down his thoughts.

 

His reaction on this.

 

“Where - where exactly  _ are _ we, Zayn?”   
  


 

Zayn's body stiffened.

 

Breathing stopping for a second.

 

Brown eyes looking up at him, a tad of distance in them.

 

“I - this, - why are you asking this?”

  
  
_ Not answering the question. _

 

Liam felt himself grow nervous.

 

Slowly, he went on, carefully tip toeing around the subject, yesterday’s fight still lingering in his bones.

 

“I don’t know, I - it’s just - I’m your boyfriend, right?”

  
  
_ She’s not your girlfriend, right? _

 

Zayn squinted his eyes, atmosphere growing cold by the second.

 

“Of course you are.”

  
  
The next words tumbled out of his mouth, mind too slow to stop his tongue.

 

“Then - then why aren’t you telling anyone?”

  
  
_ The press. _

 

_ The media. _

 

_ Everyone. _

 

_ Her. _

 

“I told my family”, Zayn slowly stated, clearly not getting the point.

 

But distancing himself still.

“N-no, I mean, I-”

  
  
Stuttering, stammering, words stuck in his throat.

 

Zayn's lips pressing together, as he whispered a soft  _ Everyone _ .

 

Realisation making him nod, his eyes darting away.

 

“You mean the press.”

 

_ The snickering, bickering, gossiping crowd out there. _

 

_ Mean. _

 

_ Harsh. _

 

_ But still. _

 

_ Everyone. _

 

“Y-yeah.”   


 

Zayn snorted, suddenly shrugging off Liam's arms, raising, his feet meeting the kitchen floor with a thud as he silently walked out of the room.

 

Mouth and eyes wide open, Liam stared at his back.

 

Staggered.

 

Hurt.

 

But, staggered.

 

Stunned, he’d really done that, walk out on him.

 

He raised, arms crossed, as he hurried to follow Zayn into the living room, where his heart sank into his stomach, seeing Zayn getting dress with a cold expression on his face.

 

“Zayn, what - what are you doing?”

  
  
Zayn didn’t even spare him a glance.

 

“Leaving.”   


 

Slowly, Liam took a step forward, hurt leaking in voice.

 

“Why?”

  
  
Tugging down the shirt Liam wore the day before, Zayn spinned around quickly, glaring at him, words snapped.

 

“Because  _ obviously _ I’m not enough for you!”   


 

_ “What?” _

 

Liam couldn’t help but laugh.

 

_ That was simply stupid. _

 

Zayn didn’t seem as amused, though.

 

“Why else isn’t my love enough, then? Why do you want to tell the press this much? I hate the media,  _ fucking _ hate their gossip and squawking and analyzing, so why do you want me to do this so bad?”   


 

Helpless, Liam shrugged, gnawing on his bottom lips.

 

“I - look, I don’t know, okay? ‘S just, that we’ve been together for  _ two years _ and I don’t know it would feel a little more -  _ official _ ?”

  
  
Slowly testing the taste of that word on his tongue.

 

Zayn's cheeks reddened, the vein on his neck pulsating.

 

“More  _ official _ ? They would  _ destroy _ you, Liam! Destroy us and everything we are, right now!”

 

_ So what are they, then? _

 

Liam bit back that question, looking away.

 

“I know, but still-”

  
  
Zayn raised his hand, slipping his feet into his black boots, still wearing Liam's shirt, aware of that or maybe not.

 

“You know what? You want  _ official _ ? You want to be shredded into pieces by them? I’ll give you fucking official!”

  
  
The determination and frustration in his words frightened Liam, but Zayn escaped his searching hands, opening the door, looking back one last time.

 

“I’ll see you at the awards in two days.”

  
  
Slamming the door shut.

 

_ Then we’re free, it’s a thin line. _

 

+++

 

**“Climb on board, we’ll go slow and high tempo”**

 

The noise was deafening.

 

Everyone buzzing with joy, chatting, laughing, screaming.

 

And yes, he knew, he should be happy, too, because everyone knew, they’d win.

 

_ He’d win. _

 

_ Their movie would win. _

 

But he hadn’t talked to Zayn since he’d left and it made him nervous, much more than sick after watching their love story on the screen.

 

The story that had wetted so many eyes, touched so many hearts, after only being released for a few days.

 

Not really unexpected, after the reviews on the first few shows.

 

_ “Zayn, Zayn, I can see him!” _

_   
_ __   
People screeching his name everywhere, dressed up girls clutching their expensive bags with a tight grip, trying not to faint at the thought of him.

 

_ His man. _

 

_ His man? _

 

He tried to chase away his thoughts, steps leading him to the seats in the front, nervously staring at his ticket.

 

_ V.I.P.’s, family, etc. _

 

He guessed all he was, was the  _ etc. _

 

Because, after all, to everyone he was nothing but  _ Malik’s best friend _ .

 

_ Zayn Malik and best friend leaving a party. _

 

_ Best friend and moviestar Zayn Malik leaving his mother’s wedding - was Gigi there, too? _

 

Nothing more.

 

He looked down at his suit.

 

Blue.

 

A colour Zayn had once told Liam he loved on him.

 

It was a present of his.

 

Otherwise, Liam wouldn’t be wearing the too expensive silk, nervously glancing at the nonexistent watch on his wrist.

 

_ Take it off, it’s stupid. _

 

Zayn's voice in his head.

 

And it somehow did, but he had always liked the feeling of something covering his wrist.

 

He didn’t even know why.

 

_ “Ladies and Gentlemen, we’d really appreciate if you’d find your seat, for the stars of this year’s awards are arriving very soon.” _

 

Liam nodded at a woman with bright, red lipstick smiling at him like she knew him, politely shaking her sweaty hand as he spotted Trisha in the front row, sighing in relief as he bid Goodbye to the giggling woman.

 

_ Finally a face he knew. _

 

He had felt lost, unwanted under all those stars and fans, a crowd united by their passion.

 

That passion being Zayn.

 

_ And Gigi. _

 

But he didn’t want to think of her now.

 

A smile caught his lips, as his eyes met brown ones, alike Zayn's but a shade brighter, warmer.

 

“Liam - it’s so  _ great _ to see you again!”   


 

Trisha adjusted her dress to stand up, but Liam shook his head, signing her to sit down again.

 

“You too, Mrs Malik, I didn’t expect you to be here.”

  
  
He sat down next to the woman, kissing her cheek softly, her perfume in his nose.

 

She laughed, eyes crinkling, remembering him of her son.

 

“Why wouldn’t I be here, I always am, just like you!”

  
  
Slowly, he nodded, smile faltering.

 

“Fair enough.”

  
  
The woman frowned a bit at his guarded face, but soon lost her seriousness again, face shining, ignoring the flashing cameras.

 

“So, how are you doing, darling? I haven’t seen you around in a while, is everything alright between you and -  _ you know _ ?”

  
  
Voice lowering, gazing around to not get caught.

 

_ Liam hated it. _

 

But the smile never left his lips.

 

“No, everything’s fine, I guess, Zayn’s just been, uh - busy, I guess.”

  
  
“Busy, huh?”

  
  
Pity in her eyes, knowing her son too well.

 

Liam simply shrugged.

 

His eyes darting to the stage in front of him, where a small man with white cards tapped at the microphone, his repeatedly tries to gaining attention by clearing his throat, suddenly tuning through the hall.

 

The chattering quieted down.

 

The tension rising along with the buzz of excitement.

 

_ Even though all he could do was gulp nervously. _

 

_ “Ladies and Gentlemen, I’m very happy to present you this years finale of the awards, the last three movies having competed against each other, until the judgement had finally come to decide who the award for the Top Breakout Movie will go to.” _

  
  
A dead silence hung over the room, everyone staring at the stage with wide eyes.

 

Screen behind the man twirling.

 

_ “Ladies and Gentlemen, I now present you the winner of this years awards, it being no one less than-” _   


 

A dramatic pause, Trisha next to Liam gripping his hand tightly.

 

“- _‘Befour and behind the waves’_ _starring Gigi Hadid and Zayn Malik! Congratulations!_ ”  


 

The crowd exploded, screams and claps mixing into a buzzing thumping against Liam's ears, who didn’t even notice the tight hug Trisha pulled him into, for his eyes were trained on the grinning pair entering the stage, teeth showing, faces glowing.

 

_ “Gigi and Zayn, everyone!” _

 

The little man grinned, clapping against his cards, as Zayn and Gigi stopped next to him, shaking his hand and receiving his quiet congratulations with a smile and a mouthed Thank You.

 

Blue and brown eyes darting around the crowd, Trisha next to him waving furiously.

 

_ Still excited after Liam had lost count of the many awards decorating Zayn's rooms. _

 

Liam looked down, not meeting Zayn's burning stare, as they waited for the crowd to calm down.

 

Gigis laughter now amplified.

 

Mixing with Zayn's voice.

 

Liam couldn’t help but look up again, seeing them clutching the award together, smiling into the flashing cameras happily.

 

The man hushed the crowd down, with his hands, before he turned to Zayn and Gigi, offering the the microphone.

 

Ladies first, as always.

 

Gigi grinned.

 

_ “I cannot say how happy I am right now, this is so unexpected-” _

 

It was not.

 

_ “- and I - I can’t believe it!” _

 

Gaze lingering on Zayn's face a second too long.

 

_ “After all, this is my third movie and I am honored to have taken part in this masterpiece! I want to thank my family, my-” _ _   
_

 

Liam zoned out as Zayn's eyes met his, his face glowing and his eyebrows raising, like a silent  _ I did it _ , but all Liam did was nod slightly, forcing a weak smile on his lips.

 

_ Why didn’t you call? Why did you leave me like this? _ , he wanted to scream, but he remained silent, Trishas gaze on him, as Zayn accepted the microphone Gigi offered with a smile.

 

Clearing his throat, like he always did.

 

He swore, he could hear every girl in this room sight, as he grinned, shaking his head as he tried to find the right words.

 

_ “Wow.” _

 

A giggle running along the crowd.

 

He grinned in satisfaction, knowing exactly what he could do to the people watching him.

 

_ “No, I mean it - wow, you guys are  _ amazing _! This - this is, I-” _ _   
_

 

Again, he shook his head, chuckling along with everyone watching him.

 

Even Liam had to grin slightly.

 

_ “I literally can not find the words to say this - even though this may be because of the few drinks I have enjoyed on the journey to this place-” _

 

Laughter filled the room, Zayn's eyes sparkling happily.

 

A little glossy, but happy.

 

_ “I just - I just want to thank everyone in this room, yeah? Like, this is not what  _ I _ achieved, not what Gi and me achieved, it is what we all achieved, our team, our director and every single one of you out there pressing the Vote-Button again and again, like, this is what unites us. These moment make us strong, and I have to tell you, I feel hella strong right now.” _

 

Liam smiled, hands shaking, but still loving to see him out there.

 

With his fans.

 

So happy.

 

He couldn’t help it.

 

_ “But I couldn’t have even gotten to this point without my manager, my team, my family - hell, without them I wouldn’t even be born, would I?” _ __   
  


 

Again and again, he spread his charm, trapping the crowd in his spell like he did every time Liam looked at him.

 

Even his mum cackled out a laugh at his statement, blowing him a kiss, as he pointed at her.

 

Liam's cheeks reddening, as he showed up at the screen behind Zayn, only because of his mother sitting next to him, but still.

 

The attention made him nervous.

 

_ “I love you all so much, you are fucking amazing - and hey, I don’t even care, if you put in a beep in every fuckin’ word I say, people!” _ _   
_

 

The crowd roared in laughter.

 

_ “No, let’s stay serious here-” _

 

Wiping his palm dry on his jeans, never losing his grin, the mischief glistening in his eyes.

 

_ “- ‘cause I got a confession to make.” _

 

The noise quieted down for a bit, as he leaned forward.

 

_ “I’m a little drunk” _ , he then stated into the camera, winking and stepping back again, shortly before he raised his hand.

 

_ “No, no, no, I’m kidding!” _

 

He giggled quietly.

 

_ “I’m more than a little drunk.” _

 

Liam chuckled along with his mum, who tried looking serious, even though he saw her shoulders quavering.

 

_ “But-” _

 

He raised his finger.

 

_ “I have an excuse, because you have to know, that there is a very special person sitting in the crowd right now and it’s making me a little nervous.” _

 

Liam's eyes widened as the camera zoned over the crowd, trying to find the person Zayn was talking about.

 

Was  _ still _ talking about, to the people looking at him in awe.

 

Some of them nearly fainting, as he slowly stepped down, leaving the stage behind him, a wink in his eyes as he wandered around the cordoned off corridor.

 

_ “And you know why I’m nervous? Because I kinda screwed up, leaving at the most inappropriate moments, I swear, I’m good at that.” _

_   
_ __   
Liam ignored Trishas burning stare, his eyes too much focused on the words leaving Zayn's pink lips, his whole body shaking.

 

_ “But, you know, I’m always forgiven - always. I don’t deserve that.” _

 

His lips pouting at the awing crowd.

 

_ “I don’t deserve any of the things this person is doing for me, like for example waiting for me every time I come home late or making me breakfast, even though I’m completely hungover - but I swear, no one can say no to those pancakes!” _ _   
_

 

Again, he made everyone laugh.

 

He was ruling the mass.

 

Everyone looking up to him like he was their king.

 

_ And maybe he was. _

 

_ Secretly. _

 

_ “To remain serious, I have to say, this person is really, really special to me, because he always sticks by my side, supports my decisions and I can say that this person means as much home to me as my mum by now - sorry, mum, I still love you, though!” _ _   
_

 

Maybe, no one had heard the  _ he _ .

 

Maybe his ears had tricked him.

 

_ Maybe. _

 

He gulped.

 

_ “And I have to admit, I’ve kinda fallen for this person.” _

 

Zayn scratched his neck, a blush on his cheeks as Liam heard a few  _ Gigi _ chants.

 

Or was that  _ Zigi _ ?

  
  
He didn’t know, for his eyes had met Zayn's.

 

And couldn’t look away.

 

As Zayn led his steps to the front again.

 

_ “Now, I believe you’re dying to meet this person-” _ _   
_

 

Grinning cheekily as the crowd roared.

 

_ “- even though none of you deserves it, really.” _ _   
_

 

He sighs dramatically, before he stopped in front of the stage, gaze shortly meeting Gigi’s before he turned his back on her, eyes locking with Liam's now, knocking the air out of his lungs.

 

_ “But, you know, I think it’s time, because, well, I’m sure everyone here knows him.” _

 

The crowd went silent.

 

Zayn's smile not denying the  _ him _ that had left his lips.

 

_ Him, him, him. _

 

_ Gay? _ __   
  


_ Him? _

 

Whispers everywhere, some shocked, some surprised, some with joy, but Liam didn’t hear any of that anymore, for Zayn had nearly reached him, the camera close behind him.

 

_ “Sometimes I think I’m a complete fool thinking I’m enough for this wonderful person, but well, nobody is perfect, right?” _

 

Their gazes locked.

 

_ “I’m very nervous about this because this is probably the longest speech I’ve made-” _ _   
_

 

Liam's breath hitched, as Zayn stopped right there, in front of him, his smile pointed directly at him now.

 

_ “- but this is a mess anyway, so - guys?” _

_   
_ __   
He looked at the many faces behind Liam, his hands suddenly shaky along with his lips, his words, as he continued.

 

_ “May I introduce you the person I’ve grown to love, to appreciate and to admire, because, fuck, I love you, Liam James Payne, with every beating fibre of my heart.” _

_   
_ __   
Liam didn’t even care, that the camera caught the small tear running down his cheek as Zayn took a deep breath, both of them zoning out the silent crowd watching them speechless.

 

_ “This is the man I have loved and called my boyfriend for two years now-” _ _   
_

 

Zayn's voice growing more quiet by the second as he fumbled in his pocket, then, slowly sinking onto his knees.

 

_ Liam's eyes widening, whilst the crowd started flipping out, the noise not meeting their bubble though, their connection as their eyes locked. _

 

_ “- the man I’d love to call my fiancé-” _

 

Microphone dropping out of his hand now, tears wetting his cheeks as he stared up at Liam, opening the small, black box to reveal a thin, silver ring.

 

Simple.

 

But promising an eternity.

 

“- that is, if you say yes, Liam.”

  
  
His eyes filled with hope, fear and mostly pure love, hands shaking, as Liam raised, slowly pulling him up, eyes meeting, lips colliding, whispering  _ I do, I do, I do _ with every salty kiss their lips shared.

 

_ His. _

 

_ Theirs. _

 

_ Together. _

 

_ United. _

 

_ Forever. _

 

+

  
**END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I hope this wasn't too rushed? Idk? Tell me what you think!!
> 
> P/s I don't have anything against Gigi, in fact I think she's a beautiful, strong woman and she simply got an unlucky character in this story that's all


	3. iT's YoU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Story based on iT's YoU, very beautiful song, I love it :)
> 
> (Basically after every '+++' the POV switches so it's like ZAYN +++ LIAM +++ ZAYN,... just to avoid confusion)
> 
> Enjoy
> 
> P/s (I'm looking for a beta, so if you're interested, don't hesitate to write me)

**“I’ll let ‘em bleed.”**

 

Zayn stumbled across the street.

 

_ “It’s over.” _

 

Eyes wide open.

 

_ “Leave - just fuckin’ leave, Zayn.” _ _  
_

 

Dry, too try.

 

_ “I don’t want to see your face again, hear that? Ever!” _

 

No tears spilling.

 

Yet.

 

He could still hear him shouting.

 

_ Them  _ shouting.

 

They had never fought this long before.

 

This intense.

 

This aggressive.

 

Trashed chairs and plates around them.

 

A mess.

 

He stopped in the middle of the street, barely hearing the people shouting. The cars honking. The traffic lights blinking.

 

_ Everything had come up. _

 

Everything that had filled their hearts with poison, words, swallowed down, suddenly exploding, leaving their mouths with the taste of regret.

 

_ “Nothing fills me more with regret, than meeting you, Zayn!” _

__  
__  
His throat was still sore from screaming, sobbing and crying out the last drops of tears left in his body.

 

Drenching his cheeks and leaving burning marks on his skin.

 

_ “I fuckin’ hate you!” _

 

Somebody started pushing him, tearing at his clothes, making him stumble the few meters left until his feet hit the grey pavement. His body growing limp.   
  
Weakening.

 

Every ounce of strength leaving his muscles, his sight blurry as his head hit the floor.

 

He could hear someone screaming.

 

Screaming for help like his body, soul and mind did.

 

Like his heart had started doing months ago.

 

The small stones covering the pavement felt like needles slowly entering his brain, pain taking over, mind blurring.

 

Like a thick fog, slowly covering his mind, his sight.

 

Was that blood running down his forehead?

 

So red.

 

He could still hear someone screaming.

 

Not like Liam had screamed at him.

 

Neither like Zayn had screamed back.

 

No, it was a terrified, helpless scream.

 

_ Help, help, someone call 911! _

 

Zayn tried to lift his head.

 

Tried opening his mouth.

 

_ I’m fine, I’m fine _ , he wanted to scream, but he knew his voice was worn out.

 

Like his body.

 

His mind.

 

His heart.

 

He was  _ drenched. _

 

No strength left in him.

 

He barely felt the pair of hands shaking him, trying to lift him up.

 

Body numb.

 

Like his thoughts.

 

_ “It’s over.” _

 

_ 911, 911! _

 

Cars honking, people screaming.

 

So much screaming, everywhere.

 

In his ears, head and around him.

 

_ Everywhere. _

 

Blood. Something warm and sticky covering the back of his head. Or was it the side? The front?

 

_ Thump, thump, thump. _

 

He could still hear his own heartbeat. Maybe a tad too loud to be normal.

 

_ Normal, normal, normal. _

 

_ Over, over, over. _

 

The pair of hands came back. Covered by cloth. Gripping his biceps.

 

_ Don’t touch me _ , he wanted to yell, but all he could do was whimper, his eyes closed, sight blurry.

 

_ Blurry, blurry, blurry. _

 

_ Let me go, go, go. _

 

Tears leaking at the brim of his eyes.

 

Manly shouts, grunts, sobs.

 

Sirens howling as he lost the touch of ground underneath him. Floating, the strong hands still there.

 

_ “I hate you.” _

 

Liam's voice still in his head.

 

Sticky.

 

Angry.

 

He started screaming as his sight blackened.

 

+++

 

**“Tell me your lies”**

 

Liam's hands were dripping.

 

Water, cold water, meeting his hot, sticky blood.

 

He barely felt the pain, the fight still lingering on them, the thrown words and the  _ betrayal. _

 

The hickeys still fresh on his skin.

 

His olive skin.

 

_ “It didn’t mean nothin’!” _

 

Lies, endless lies sickening, poisoning his blood.

 

His skin felt hot.

 

Sick.

 

_ “I know you’re fucking him again!” _

 

Liam suddenly felt the need to puke.

 

Puke out his disgust, his despise.

 

Of himself.

 

He felt disgusting.

 

Scratching over the marks on his neck, marks left by the wrong person in the wrong place.

 

Remembering the slapping noise of their skin, his hands buried in too short, foreign hair, face dripping with regret, silently whispering his name over and over again.

 

_ Zayn, Zayn, Zayn. _

 

Even though he had looked into green eyes as he had screamed out his lust, coming onto the wrong man in the wrong bed.

 

_ Wrong, wrong, wrong. _

 

His hands started getting numb under the cold liquid covering them, dripping over the hands that had met his jaw, thrown the first chair against the wall.

 

_ The jaw he had kissed so many times. _

 

_ Fingertips running traces over it, his own face buried into his neck. _

 

_ Olive, olive skin. _

 

But as he tried picturing his face, his beautiful face, all he could see was the anger flashing in his brown eyes, usually soft voice rough, screaming shouting, crying out his anger.

 

And all he could feel was  _ betrayal. _

 

_ His lies. _

 

Skin marked.

 

_ Cheating. _

 

_ “Tell me you don’t love her, Zayn.” _

 

Even though he had sworn to never see her again.

 

Fuck, Zayn had sworn not to.

 

Liam gulped, the picture of his olive skin melting with her pale, soft one marked into his skin.

 

_ Because he had caught them before. _

 

A winter night, wind howling, reddening his skin, red, like the mark on his cheeks.

 

The mark he had left.

 

Their moans still in his ears.

 

Zayn's skin still sweaty.

 

Glowing under his tears.

 

He hadn’t been able to touch him in weeks.

 

Until her marks had faded.

 

Her scent had left his skin.

 

_ The canvas he had called his property. _

 

His.

 

_ “You’re no better than me, Liam!” _

__

Their fists colliding, blood mixing with their harsh grips.

 

Too harsh.

 

The collision of their marked skins. Marked, not by themselves.

 

It’s what had torn them apart.

 

The minute, Liam had entered the room.

 

Bringing the soft breeze blowing outside with him, the smell of another man still lingering on his hands.

 

As Zayn had looked at him.

 

Starting to scream.

 

_ “I hate you!” _

 

Not even trying to cover his own neck, bruised and covered.

 

Covered in shame.

 

In regret.

 

Liam stared at the blood rushing down the sink, disappearing in a twirl, taken away by the clean drops of water.

 

Icy.

 

And cold.

 

Too innocent, too clean.

 

His own words harsh in his ears.

 

_ “It’s over.” _

 

Leaving him alone in his crashed apartment.

 

The stream of water numbing his hands.

 

His skin.

 

His thoughts.

 

_ Zayn. _

 

+++

 

**“I won’t, I won’t, I won’t cover the scars”**

 

Zayn woke with bright light setting his tired eyes on fire.

 

Too bright.

 

He opened them still.

 

Squirting, squirming, wiping away the tears at the brim of his eyes.

 

Until he could see his face.

 

His beautiful face.

 

“Li-”   


 

He flinched at the sound of his own voice, words barely leaving his lips, but he didn’t care because he was  _ here. _

 

Right there, next to him.

 

He looked up.

 

Frowning at the black hair.

 

The black stubble.

 

_ Wrong face, wrong face. _

 

Liam's face disappeared as he blinked.

 

Revealing the man in the white coat.

 

Eyeing him with worry, fingers clutching the notepad tightly.

 

“I’m glad you’re awake, Sir.”   


 

_ The wrong voice, wrong voice. _

 

Zayn closed his eyes for a second, breathing in deeply.

 

He didn’t want him to be there.

 

Right there, next to him.

 

He didn’t.

 

Eyes opening again.

 

Smiling weakly.

 

Failing.

 

“Where am I?”

 

He had to whisper, throat sore and hurting, head pounding with every move he made, with every thought gone too far.

 

The bed sheets under his bed soft and white.

 

The man smiled a soft smile at him, slowly sitting down on the chair next to his bed.

 

A white chair.

 

White and brown.

 

“You had an accident yesterday afternoon. You seemed to have fallenl unconscious from one second to another, so a woman called 911 to bring you here. You hit your head pretty badly I must say.”

 

Zayn slowly raised his hand, touching the hair covering his head.

 

Sticky.

 

Covering the bandage wrapped around his head.

 

“Oh.”

 

He frowned.

 

“Why - why did I-”

 

He coughed, throat burning and the taste of blood suddenly on his tongue.

 

The man offered him a glass of water.

 

Zayn declined.

 

Getting sick at the thought of something entering his stomach.

 

“Where - where am I now?”

  
  
_ Where is my family? _ _  
_

 

_ Where is he? _

 

Soft rays of sun lightened up the room as he blinked at the man in the white coat who scribbled down something on his notepad, offering him a small grin.

 

“You’re at the local hospital, Room 24 to be exact.”   


 

_ He didn’t care about the room number, really. _

 

But he blinked an  _ okay _ anyways, too tired to move his head.

 

Or anything.

 

_ His body hurt. _

 

_ “All you do is hurt me.” _ _  
_

 

Screams suddenly filling his head, making him groan, his hands clutching both sides of his head.

 

The pain was piercing and constant, thin, hot needles sinking into his brain, torturing his thoughts away, head filled with darkness.

 

He could barely hear the machines beeping, screaming, high noises burning into his brain.

 

His sight darkened.

 

Small spots of light flickering every second.

 

_ “Sir? Sir! You have to concentrate on my voice, listen to my voice!” _ __  
  


He tried.

 

_ Concentrate on the words. _

 

Words, words, words.

 

The pain smallened a bit.

 

Giving him back his sight.

 

Even though tears still blurred his sight as he blinked, hands slowly sinking down, falling into his lap.

 

Breath slow.

 

A drop of blood landed on the white sheets covering his legs.

 

_ Tap. Tap. _

 

Escaping his nose.

 

He raised his head.

 

Staring into the doctors worried eyes, realization leaking in them.

 

Making Zayn's lips tremble in fear.

 

“Is - is this n-normal?”   


 

_ Normal, normal, normal. _

 

He could see the doctor’s fingers clenching around his notepad.

 

Screaming  _ no, no, no. _

 

As he tried his smile again.

 

“Completely normal, Sir. I’ll simply have to ask you a few questions before I’ll let you sleep.”   


 

_ But he wasn’t tired. _

 

His eyelids heavy.

 

Fingers raising to wipe away the small drops of blood running out of his nose.

 

_ Normal, normal, normal. _

 

The man cleared his throat, opening his notepad, hands shaking slightly.

 

_ Normal. _

 

“Did you - um, were there any diseases in the past few years? Like feeling sick in the morning or piercing headaches like this one?”

  
  
Zayn sniffed, head, sinking into the soft pillow.

 

_ Tired. _

 

“I - I guess sometimes? Like - I’d get sick with no reason but I guess that - that happens, right?”

  
  
_ Headaches growing more painful after every fight with him. _

 

He didn’t want to think about it.

 

Seeing the doctor nod.

 

“What about sudden changes of personality? Problems with speaking or moving?”

 

Zayn frowned, wincing, as his head started pounding again.

 

“N-no, I mean-”   


 

_ Remembering the sudden fights. _

 

_ Sudden kisses with the wrong person. _

 

“M-maybe, I - I, sometimes I felt like - like-”   


 

He swallowed his tears.

 

_ Normal, normal, normal. _

 

“I cheated on m-my boyfriend, I - I didn’t mean to, I just-”   
  
Sniffing.

 

The doctor nodding.

 

Scribbling, scribbling.

 

Before he raised, looking at him, down at him.

 

“Thank you for your patience, Sir, I’m sure everything is fine.”

 

_ Fine, fine, fine. _

 

He remembered telling himself that.

 

Telling  _ him _ that.

 

_ “We’re fine. It’s fine, right?” _

 

He couldn’t even nod.

 

Pain on his tongue.

 

_ Payne on his tongue. _

 

_ Liam Payne. _

 

+++

 

**“I don’t know why”**

 

Liam stared out of the window.

 

Fingers clutching the bottle of wine.

 

Liquid sweet on his tongue.

 

Bitter.

 

Sweet.

 

“So, it’s over.”   


 

His green eyes burning into his side, intense.

 

_ Intense. _

 

Liam's lips kissed the top of the bottle, throat wettening with the cool drops of alcohol.

 

The cool drops of oblivion.

 

“Yeah.”

  
  
Voice hoarse, without emotion.

 

His bare back cold against his hot fingers.

 

_ Don’t touch me _ , his lips wanted to scream, but he remained quiet.

 

Maybe, just maybe to get the sour taste of  _ his _ betrayal disappearing.

 

_ His betrayal. _

 

_ Their betrayal. _

 

_ Them. _

 

“Forreal, man?”   


 

He stopped himself from rolling his eyes.

 

Or didn’t.

 

Leaning away from his touch.

 

“Yeah.”   


 

Liam could hear him snort.

 

“Because, I mean, you’ve had breaks ‘n stuff and-”   


 

“It’s over, okay?”

 

Angry, piercing looks thrown at the green eyed man, rage filling his veins.

 

_ Another sip. _

 

“Okay, chill, man, ‘was jus’ askin’, y’know?”   


 

Coming closer, smirking.

 

Liam felt the need to puke.

 

“‘Cause ‘m horny.”   


 

_ Sip, sip, sip. _

 

Not answering his intense stare, his fingertips kissing his skin.

 

Naked skin.

 

Liam closed his eyes.

 

“Not right now, mate.”   


 

_ Never. _

 

He could hear him groan.

 

“You’re always saying that, I-”

 

The vein on Liam's neck extracting out with every yelled word.

 

“I have just broken up with the love of my life, for god’s sake, give me a fucking break!”

 

_ The love of his life. _

 

Tears meant to spill a long time ago wiped away by his thick fingers.

 

_ The man of his dreams. _

 

Never a chance to tell him.

 

It’s for the best.

 

He could hear him snort.

 

“The love of your life you cheated on at least three-”   


 

Liam bolted up, trousers tight against his skin, blood boiling, face red.

 

“That’s it, okay? That’s fucking it! Leave, just - why are you even here?”

 

_ Leave, leave, leave. _

 

Coming closer to the raising man.

 

_ Threatening. _

 

Rage looking for release.

 

“I-”   
  
His voice frightened, nearly tripping like he did whilst Liam came closer.

 

“‘M sorry dude, I-”   


 

“Leave!”   
  


Vein prominent on his neck, muscles bulging.

 

Liam watched his skinny legs flee, clothes in his hands, face looking back, frightened, as the door fell shut.

 

As Liam fell to his knees.

 

The room spinning.

 

Tears leaking.

 

Hands shaking.

 

_ Zayn, Zayn, Zayn. _

 

He could see him leave.

 

Hear him leave.

 

_ Again. _

 

Over and over.

 

“Stay!”   


 

Yelling, sobbing, screaming through the empty room.

 

The bottle next to him, red liquid drenching the wooden floor.

 

“Why did you leave?”   


 

_ His own voice harsh in his ears. _

 

_ “Fucking leave, Zayn.” _ __  
  


“Why don’t you come back?”   


 

_ “Don’t you dare show your face again!” _ _  
_

 

Fingers scratching red lines on his neck, fisting his hair.

 

_ Chasing away the pain ripping through his body. _

 

“Come back, come back.”   


 

Whispering softly.

 

_ Why. _

 

_ Why. _

 

+++

 

**“Am I wrong, for wanting us to make it?”**

 

“So your reflexes have been bad for a while now?”   


 

Zayn didn’t like the female doctor.

 

Eyeing him, like he’d drop dead every second now.

 

He shrugged.

 

“I guess.”   


 

_ Hearing Liam's voice again. _

 

_ Chanting, chanting. _

 

_ “Your reflexes are shit, babe, can’t you catch the ball for one damn time?” _

 

His laughter.

 

The doctor nodded, pink lipstick a contrast to her dark skin.

 

“Frown.”

  
  
Zayn looked up.

 

“What?”

 

She stepped closer.

 

“Try frowning.”   


 

Zayn tried to hide his annoyance, as he stared at her intensely, head throbbing as he tried frowning at her, not because she told him to, but because he found this ridiculous.

 

Even though he simply managed to squint his eyebrows a bit, pain raging through his head.

 

His lower lips trembled, hands starting to shake as he stared at the doctor with wide eyes.

 

“What’s wrong with me?”

  
  
Voice barely a whisper, thick tears leaking in them, as her face softened, warm hands searching for his cold one.

 

“I wish I could tell you you’re fine, but you know, the results say different.”

  
  
He gulped, suddenly feeling really cold.

 

_ Cold. _

 

“What - what do they say?”

  
  
She barely looked at him.

 

“Nothing certain yet, but it doesn’t look good.”

  
  
_ Not good, good, good. _

 

“You’ll have to listen to the doctors now, love, understand?”   


 

Her voice fading, as he nodded, slowly, carefully.

 

Letting her take him to another doctor.

 

_ He’ll treat you real good. It’ll be okay. _

 

Letting them shove a needle into his skin.

 

_ It’s called a Special Dye, love, isn’t that funny? _

 

Letting them run his brain through a machine.

 

A machine linked to magnets.

 

Signs.

 

Beeping.

 

_ It’ll show us your brain. I’m sure your brain is fine. _

 

_ Relax. _

 

Their lurring voices tiring his body.

 

But he didn’t utter a word.

 

Not, after the third machine they had run him through.

 

Not, as they told him to relax, shoving a thin needle into his head.

 

_ It’ll be fine. _

 

Removing fluid.

 

Making him lay flat for hours.

 

_ Don’t fall asleep. _

 

_ No matter what. _

 

_ It’ll be fine. _

 

He remained silent.

 

As he lay there, on his bed, doctors around him.

 

Whispering, nodding.

 

Diagnosing.

 

Taking his hand.

 

A  _ sorry _ carved on their faces.

 

_ Your brain, brain, brain. _

 

He looked up.

 

_ Damage, damage, damage. _

 

Eyelashes dancing.

 

_ Serious, serious, serious. _

 

On his cheeks.

 

_ Second or third stadium. _

 

Tears cold on his hot skin.

 

_ Cancer, cancer, cancer. _

 

Where was he?

 

_ Brain damage. _

 

Why wasn’t he here?

 

_ Brain tumor. _

 

Why hadn’t they made it?

 

_ Surgery, surgery, surgery. _

 

Liam.

 

_ Call your family, family, family. _

 

Liam was his family.

 

_ It’ll be okay. _

 

His home.

 

_ We’ll help you, help you, help you. _

 

His everything.

 

+++

 

**“Could it be that it’s a lesson, that I never had to learn?”**

 

Liam felt weak.

 

Barely able to concentrate.

 

On his work.

 

On the people passing.

 

Trying to talk to him.

 

Giving up eventually.

 

His clothes were covered with black oil.

 

Hands slick and numb.

 

As he stared at the ground of the garage, dim lights making it hard to stay awake.

 

_ “You shouldn’t work there. It’s not good for you, Liam.” _ _  
_

 

Zayn's soft voice in his head.

 

He closed his eyes, trying to picture his face.

 

His beautiful face.

 

But all he could see was a blurry silhouette.

 

Fading into his own darkness.

 

Taking the picture but turning up the sound.

 

His voice.

 

_ “I love you, Liam. Always have.” _ _  
_

 

His breath quickened.

 

Almost hearing himself answer.

 

His whispered words.

 

_ “Say it again.” _ _  
_

 

Again and again and again.

 

Liam's chest tightened, fists clenched.

 

_ “I love you, Zayn.” _

 

And, fuck, he did.

 

Too late, too late, too late.

 

Too late to tell.

 

Too late to cry.

 

“Payne?”

  
  
He turned around, slowly, wiping his palm clean, his pants dirty anyways.

 

As he looked at his chef approaching.

 

Raising, back straight.

 

“Yes, sir?”   


 

Hoping, praying.

 

He needed his job.

 

The older man smiled a worried smile.

 

“Been a little absent lately, huh?”   


 

Liam felt himself nod, gaze lowering.

 

Guilty.

 

“Yes, I’m sorry, Sir.”   


 

The blue, watery eyes caught his gaze, arms crossed in front of his chest, but nothing but worry in them.

 

“You know, you’re a very good worker here, and as much as I like your work, you can’t not do anything here. We’re losing customers because of you, telling me you didn’t even look at them.”   


 

He flinched, remembering Zayn's brother’s eyes.

 

_ “What’s up with you, Li? Where’s Zayn?” _

 

Brown, so brown.

 

So familiar.

 

He had turned away.

 

He had.

 

Liam cleared his throat.

 

“I’m sorry, s’just, I’m just a little-”

 

_ Crushed. _

 

_ Down. _

 

“- tired, my - I’ve had a very intense breakup, you know? I just need a while, but it’ll be alright, promise.”   


 

His boss nodded.

 

Eyeing him suspiciously, before patting his shoulder.

 

A silent  _ I’m sorry _ in his touch.

 

Liam nodded a  _ thank you _ .

 

Before he watched the older man leave.

 

Leaving him alone with his thoughts.

 

_ Was this, what he deserved? _

 

Being completely alone.

 

He remembered puking after every spent night in another man’s bed.

 

Puking in disgust, shame and guilt.

 

But had Zayn not done the same?

 

Meeting her over and over, even though he had promised, words formed by those pink lips.

 

_ “I promise, Liam.” _

 

He wasn’t better.

 

Not one bit.

 

_ “It’s nothing, Zayn. Won’t happen again. I swear.” _ _  
_

 

Why had he let it happen again and again?

 

Why had done it?

 

_ Revenge, maybe. _

 

The first time, he had been drunk.

 

_ Or frustration. _

 

The second time had been right after a fight with Zayn.

 

Another battle fought with words, too loud screams and regret.

 

_ But they had always found back together. _

 

Always.

 

_ But this time had been different. _

 

The screams had tasted like a sour  _ Goodbye. _

 

Punches like their bond breaking.

 

Ripping apart.

 

Seeing Zayn leave had tasted nothing like before.

 

_ Goodbye, Goodbye, Goodbye  _ his back had screamed.

 

_ Alone, alone, alone _ , his empty apartment had yelled.

 

_ He deserved it. _

 

The pain.

 

He did.

 

Liam sighed, slowly covering his palms with thick gloves again.

 

_ He deserved feeling alone. _

 

His steps slowly leading him into the garage again.

 

_ He deserved having a broken heart. _

 

Eyes greeting his friends.

 

_ He deserved it. _

 

Drowning his thoughts under thick, black oil.

 

+++

 

**“Because my brain can’t equate it”**

 

Zayn watched his hair falling on the floor.

 

Strand for strand.

 

Thick, black hair.

 

He closed his eyes, listening to his mother sob quietly as her shaking hands kept leading the buzzing razor over his head.

 

Leaving a trace of stubble.

 

_ I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry _ , she had sobbed after she had entered the room.

 

Hugging him, drowning his pain in the sweetness of her scent.

 

She had smelled like home.

 

Cinnamon, oranges and herbs.

 

_ Your brother will visit you tomorrow _ , she had whispered against his neck.

 

Rubbing small circles on his back, as he had digged his fingers into her waist.

 

_ What about her? _ , he had breathed, tears spilling, already knowing the answer.

 

Her mother hadn’t released him but held him closer.

 

_ She couldn’t make it _ , she had lied.

 

_ She doesn’t want to see you _ , his brother had told him the day after.

 

_ Sobbing into his shoulder. _

 

Zayn holding him.

 

_ Like it was going to be okay. _

 

Men weren’t supposed to cry, his brother had told him.

 

Crying into Zayn's shirt quietly.

 

Secretly.

 

_ I don’t want to lose you _ , he had mumbled against back.

 

_ You won’t _ , Zayn had lied.

 

Because he didn’t know.

 

He didn’t know anymore.

 

He watched the last strands of his hair fall quietly.

 

The buzzing of the razor stopping.

 

His mother’s hands linking with his as she sat down next to him.

 

Smiling softly, as she handed him a small mirror.

 

Reflecting his bony face.

 

Once glowing skin now pale, dark rings under his brown eyes.

 

His head shaved.

 

_ He looked vulnerable. _

 

Zayn closed his eyes, shoving away the mirror.

 

Not stopping the tears escaping his eyes.

 

His mother kissed his trembling hands.

 

“The doctors said that there is a chance they could still do the surgery.”

 

He hated, how quiet her voice was, without an ounce of joy.

 

Nodding quietly.

 

Breathing a small  _ Okay. _

 

Eyes snapping open, as the door did so, closing with a soft snap as the doctor entered the room, Javaad right behind him.

 

Looking pale.

 

_ Men do not cry _ .

 

He wasn’t able to look at his brother’s tired face any longer.

 

“How are you feeling today, Zayn?”   


 

_ Losing the ‘Sir’ along with the ‘You’re fine’. _

 

_ Tell the truth, Zayn _ , his mother had begged him.

 

_ Don’t lie to them _ , she had whispered.

 

_ The know, what they do. They can help you. _

 

Zayn shrugged softly, fingers tightening around his mother’s hand.

 

“My head hurts.”   


 

_ Tell them, tell them, Zayn. _

 

“I - I can’t eat, it makes me throw up.”   


 

_ It got worse. _

 

_ Worse, worse, worse. _

 

The blonde doctor sighed, stepping closer to touch his forehead.

 

“Hot”, he then stated, kneeling down in front of him.

 

Looking up and down his neck.

 

His chin.

 

His cheeks.

 

“Have you had any attacks of Migraine last night?”   


 

_ The truth. _

 

Zayn exhaled slowly, rubbing over his newly shaved head.

 

It felt weird.

 

“Every two hours or so”, he then whispered, not finding the strength to talk properly.

 

“Okay”, the doctor nodded, raising slowly.

 

“It’s what I expected, to be honest, the cancer is nearly reaching the third stadium now.”

 

Exchanging a glance with his mum.

 

Zayn licked over his dry lips.

 

_ He needed water. _

 

“What does that mean?”

 

_ He wanted the truth. _

 

_ The truth, truth, truth. _

 

“We may not be able to complete the surgery in time. If we don’t hurry, that is.”   


 

Nodding slowly, Zayn inhaled, trying not to think about the poison shooting waves of pain through his brain.

 

Poisoning his thoughts.

 

His mind.

 

His life.

 

“When-”   


 

His voice broke, receiving a small kiss on the back of his hand, his mother’s eyes on the doctor.

 

_ He knew, what he had meant anyways. _

 

For he opened his notebook, looking at him with nothing but professional certainty.

 

“Tomorrow, maybe the day after tomorrow.”

 

Looking away as tears started wetting his mother’s cheeks, leaving them alone with the pain crushing their chests.

 

His brother rushing towards them.

 

Kneeling in front of Zayn, taking his left hand.

 

Pressing his forehead against it.

 

Whispering a quiet  _ I’m sorry, sorry, sorry _ over and over again.

 

His mother’s tears on his shoulder.

 

_ You’ll live, Zayn, you will. _

 

Silent sobs of hers.

 

Silent prayers.

 

_ God is with you, Zayn, as are we _ , she whispered against his hand.

 

His own body numb.

 

Pain the only emotion in his body.

 

His head.

 

His mind.

 

Feeling the urge to say Goodbye.

 

Words forming on his tongue, slowly.

 

As he straightened his back.

 

“I want to talk to Sarooha.”   


 

_ He needed to see his sister. _

 

His mother looked up at him.

 

Sighing silently.

 

Wounds still bleeding.

 

“She - honey, she said she couldn’t-”   


 

Javaad interrupting her angrily.

 

“Tell him the truth, mum, he deserves that and much more and you know it!”

 

Frustration leading his anger.

 

Frustration and fear.

 

Zayn looked at his mother.

 

“Tell me, mum.”   


 

Watching her tears.

 

“She - she told me to tell you, that - that she can’t even stand the thought of - of seeing you and-”   


 

Sobbing breathless sobs.

 

“- and she doesn’t care if the next time you two would meet would be-”   


 

Voice cracking.

 

His brother finishing her sentence quietly.

 

“- at your grave. She said at your grave.”

 

Zayn closed his eyes.

 

Covering his red eyes.

 

His wet cheeks.

 

His bleeding heart.

 

His bleeding brain.

 

_ I’m sorry, Sarooha. _

 

_ I’m sorry, I hurt you. _

 

_ I’m sorry you love him. _

 

_ I’m sorry I took him. _

 

_ I’m sorry. _

 

New, piercing pain crushing his head, his brain and thoughts.

 

His scratchy voice screaming, screaming, screaming.

 

_ I’ll see you next to my grave, Sarooha. _

 

+++

 

**“So my silence won’t be mistaken for peace”**

 

Liam could taste the sweat on his face.

 

Dripping into his eyes, drenching his face and clothes, but he couldn’t stop.

 

Hands twirling forward faster and faster.

 

Punching, kicking, losing his mind.

 

The punching bag swinging.

 

Shuddering, under the force of his punches.

 

Each punch releasing his thoughts.

 

His worries.

 

His fears.

 

_ Punch. _

 

Zayn, screaming.

 

_ Punch. _

  
Leaving the apartment.

 

_ Punch. _

 

Leaving his life.

 

_ Punch. _

 

His own words in his ears.

 

_ Punch. _

 

Regretting every single one of them.

 

_ Punch. _

 

Every single one.

 

_ Punch. _

 

Zayn, smiling.

 

_ Punch. _

 

Zayn, laughing.

 

_ Punch. _

 

Zayn, spitting at him.

 

_ Punch. _

 

In disgust.

 

_ Punch. _

 

I hate you.

 

_ Punch. _

 

I love you.

 

_ Punch. _

 

His voice in his head.

 

_ Punch. _

 

Liam.

 

_ Fastening his punches. _

 

_ Sweat blurring his sight. _

 

_ Burning. _

 

_ Punch, punch. _

 

Liam!   
  


_ Punch, punch. _

 

“Liam!”   
  


_ Ignoring the screaming voices. _

 

_ Punch, Punch, Punch. _

 

“Liam for god's sake, stop!”

 

His eyes widening, as someone shoved him to the ground, interrupting the stream of emotions flowing into his punches.

 

He barely noticed the blood on his hands, as he raised.

 

Staring at the brown eyes next to his shocked trainer.

 

Javaad crossed his arms.

 

Dark bags under his eyes.

 

Face tired.

 

As was his voice.

 

“I think you should come with me, Liam.”   


 

His body filling with terror.

 

_ Zayn. _

 

+++

 

**“It’s you”**

 

They had drugged him.

 

Not enough to fall asleep.

 

But enough to crush his fighting body.

 

Tears covering his cheeks.

 

_ It hurts, hurts, hurts _ , he had screamed.

 

_ Make it stop, stop, stop _ , he had yelled, covering his head.

 

Trying to fight the approaching men in white coats.

 

Not noticing his crying mother in the corner of his room, as they had heaved him onto a stretcher.

 

Yelling.

 

_ Too loud. _

 

_ Too bright. _

 

The lights.

 

_ Surgery, surgery, surgery _ , chanting in his head.

 

As they had rushed through the hospital.

 

Zayn's eyes rolled back at the new wave of pain.

 

Lips parting for a soft  _ Goodbye. _

 

+++

 

His sweat had mixed with his salty tears by the time they had arrived at the hospital.

 

Words running through his mind like knifes.

 

_ Brain tumor. _

 

_ Surgery. _

 

_ Die, die, die. _

 

Their rushing steps.

 

Running, panting.

 

_ Too late, too late, _ he wanted to scream as they approached Zayn's mother, crouched onto a small white chair, face in her hands.

 

Raising, as they stopped, Javaad kneeling down in front of her.

 

Begging her to stop crying.

 

She didn’t.

 

“He s-started screaming a-and the doctors they t-took him, Javaad! They took him.”

 

Sniffing into her hands before she noticed Liam standing next to her son.   


 

Looking at Liam's pale, wet face.

 

Trying to smile softly.

 

“He t-talked about you a l-lot in his - his sleep, you kn-know?”

 

Liam held back his teary scream, nodding slightly.

 

“What - what did he say?”   


 

Voice silent, crushed.

 

Looking down at her clutching her second son’s hands.

 

“He misses you. He’s sorry, really sorry.”   


 

Tears burning traces along his skin.

 

“I miss him, too”, he then whispered, looking at them, seeing Zayn in every part of their features.

 

Nods.

 

Sobs.

 

“Me, too, Liam, me too.”

 

+++

 

Zayn couldn’t move.

 

_ Move, move, move _ .

 

Hearing their muffled voices.

 

Not feeling their touch.

 

_ Touch, touch, touch. _

 

_ Liam _ , he wanted to cry.

 

_ I’m sorry _ , he wanted to sob.

 

But all he could do was scream as something exploded in his head.

 

+++

 

_ “Why is he screaming?” _ , Liam yelled, covering his ears, not wanting to hear Zayn's pain filled voice.

 

Nearly jumping at the small man in front of him.

 

Panting.   


 

Sweating.

 

Nervous.

 

_ Frightened. _

 

Clothes white.

 

“The surgery didn’t work, we - we couldn’t even start, to be exact.”   


 

Zayn's mother raised, steps shaky, tissues in her balled fists.

 

“What happened?”   


 

Voice thick with tears.

 

The doctor touched his glasses.

 

Putting them off his nose.

 

Sighing.

 

“The cancer had already reached the third stadium. Making Zayn go through surgery could have caused constant brain damage.”   


 

Liam felt like his lungs were empty.

 

Air being sucked out of them.

 

He couldn’t breathe.

 

The doctor continued.

 

Slowly.

 

“Patients with this high-grade glioma usually get wafers, implants, in their brains to slowly kill the tumor. They are about the size of a dime and the process will need a few weeks so that the drugs can remove the tumor.”

 

Liam felt the need to puke.

 

Trisha’s voice weak.

 

“But will my son be okay?”

 

He remained quiet for a second too long.

 

“I don’t know.”

 

Adding a quiet  _ I hope so. _

 

+++

 

_ Pain, pain, pain. _

 

Flashing lights.

 

Rushing.

 

Yelling.

 

Instructions.

 

_ Kill me, kill me, kill me _ , he needed to scream.

 

_ Kill the pain, pain, pain. _

 

But all Zayn could do, was lie in darkness and pain.

 

+++

 

“His sister won’t come.”

 

Hate dripping in Javaads voice.

 

Hate, that shouldn’t be there.

 

Liam frowned at him.

 

“Why not?”   


 

Accepting the cigarette with shaky fingers.

 

Watching the smoke rise.

 

Hearing Javaad huff.

 

“She still hates him for it.”   


 

Inhaling, adjusting to the burn.

 

“For what?”   


 

Eyeing the black haired man.

 

Watching him snort.

  
“For taking you.”   


 

Liam started coughing.

 

_ “What?” _

 

Javaad shrugged.

 

“She loved you and Zayn knew. He was the one who got you. He was the one you loved. Not her. It crushed her."

 

Liam stared into the darkness.

  
Shocked.

 

Gulping.

 

“B-but haven’t you told her?”

  
  
_ That he may be dead any second now. _

 

_ Stop thinking, thinking, thinking. _

 

Javaad’s laugh was cold, lips kissing the cigarette’s butt.

 

“Said she’d meet ‘im at his grave.”

  
  
Anger, hot, lightening up his body.

 

As he raised.

 

Dialing, pressing his phone to his ear, entering the hospital with an angry expression on his face, leaving Javaad and the dark bench behind.

 

Not caring about the softness of her voice answering after a few seconds.

 

_ “Hello?” _

 

He didn’t care anymore.

 

Anymore.

 

“How dare you leave your family like this, Sarooha?”

  
  
Trying not to yell too loud.

 

Knowing, Trishas sleeping body was nothing but a few meters away.

 

_ “Liam?” _

 

His jaw tightened.

 

“They fucking  _ needed _ you,  _ he _ needed you and what did you do? Cause even more pain!”

 

Her voice grew as cold as his.

 

_ “I didn’t cause any pain, I did the right thing.” _ _  
_

 

Liam suddenly didn’t even care to keep his voice low anymore.

 

_ “Telling your dying brother to go fuck himself is the right fucking thing?” _

 

He could hear her breathe.

 

_ “He’s not dying.” _ _  
_

 

Liam wished he could spat at her in disgust.

 

“Yes he fucking is! Why else would he have a fucking tumor in his head, killing him from the inside?”   


 

Words suddenly unsure.

 

_ “I - I thought it was a joke, I-” _

 

“Why would they joke about something like that! He is fucking dying and he won’t be able to say Goodbye to you now, even though I don’t get why he’d want to!”   


 

_ You won’t say Goodbye, Goodbye, Goodbye. _

 

_ Ever. _

 

_ Again. _

 

He squeezed his eyes shut to stop the tears from escaping, hearing her ragged breath through the phone.

 

_ “Where - where is he right now?” _

 

He couldn’t stand hearing her voice anymore.

 

Ending the call with a  _ Come see yourself if you care enough. _

 

Sinking against the wall, sobbing.

 

+++

 

Zayn was floating above the pain now.

 

Rising.

 

A soft smile on his lips.

 

_ Up she goes, up she goes. _

 

+++

 

Liam watched Sarooha approach Trisha with his arms crossed, eyes red.

 

Watched the woman break down again, hugging her crying daughter.

 

Tears mixing.

 

Javaad hiding behind his back.

 

Hiding his hate.

 

His fear.

 

His tears.

 

_ Praying. _

 

_ Praying for him to survive. _

 

_ Survive, Zayn, survive. _

 

Liam closed his tired eyes.

 

_ I love you, Zayn. _

 

_ Don’t leave me. _

 

_ Don’t leave. _

 

+++

 

There was light.

 

Darkness and light.

 

Pain.

 

Oblivion.

 

Zayn felt like falling.

 

Falling, falling down.

 

Pain.

 

So much pain.

 

_ Stay, _ he could hear them whisper.

 

Whisper, whisper, whisper.

 

+++

 

“Did you love him?”   


 

Javaads voice was hoarse from crying.

 

Sarooha asleep on her mother’s lap.

 

Liam's head hit the wall.

 

As he stared into nothingness.

 

“I do.”   


 

_ Present tense, present tense. _

 

Still.

 

“And did he love you?”   


 

Liam swallowing the lump in his throat.

 

Nodding.

 

“Yeah - I guess he did.”   


_But did he still?_  


 

Javaads head met his shoulders, lips moving tiredly.

 

“He’ll make it, Liam.”   


 

Whispering a soft  _ He has to. _

 

_ He had to. _

 

+++

 

_ Light and dark. _

 

_ Zayn. _

 

_ Zayn. _

 

The pain fading.

 

A smile on his lips.

 

Mumbling a silent  _ Thank You _ .

 

+++

 

It was 4 a.m. as the doctor woke them up.

 

Shaking their tired shoulders.

 

A small smile on his lips.

 

_ “He made it.” _ _  
_

 

Liam's eyes snapping open.

 

_ “It’s over.” _ _  
_

 

Over, over, over.

 

Relief filling his veins as he started crying.

 

_ Made it, made it, made it. _

 

_ Zayn. _

 

+++

 

It was bright, as Zayn opened his eyes.

 

Pillow soft against his numb head.

 

_ Numb. _

 

Nothing but numb.

 

He could barely move, as his eyes darted around.

 

The room.

 

So bright.

 

_ So bright. _

 

He pressed the button next to his bed.

 

_ He did it. _

 

+++

 

Soft hands shook him awake.

 

Lips smiling at him.

 

He eyed Trisha’s tired face.

 

Parting his lips to ask.

 

Interrupted by her nod.

 

_ Awake, awake, awake. _

 

Liam raised.

 

Hands shaking, as Zayn's mother led him to the door.

 

_ Room 24. _

 

+++

 

The door opened again.

 

His lips smiling still.

 

Parting.

 

Closing again.

 

As he looked at him.

 

His face.

 

Blinking.

 

_ Once. _

 

_ Twice. _

 

Still, he stood there.

 

Looking at him.

 

+++

 

Zayn looked pale.

 

Tiny.

 

Shaved.

 

Vulnerable.

 

His eyes burned, as he softly closed the door.

 

Eyeing his bony face, thin arms and pale skin.

 

Lips trembling like his heart did.

 

+++

 

Liam looked tired.

 

Cheekbones sticking out a little too much.

 

He looked thin, as Zayn stared at him.

 

Heart leaping.

 

Hands shaking.

 

+++

 

_ What could he say? _

 

+++

 

_ What could he do? _

 

+++

 

Liam's hand scratched over his neck.

 

+++

 

His habit making Zayn's lips twitch, as he drank in every single thing about the man standing right there, in front of him.

 

+++

 

The room started twirling, as he stood next to the door, hand on his neck, eyes on the man he loved.

 

A slow, careful smile on his lips.

 

_ Their gazes locked. _

 

And all he could do was breath a small  _ Hi. _

 

Nearly starting to cry, as Zayn's lips parted in a smile, answering with a tiny glow in his eyes.

 

“Hi.”   
  


 

**END**

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't help something CLOSE to a happy end, even though I thought of letting Zayn die as I started this, but oh well... I hope you enjoyed it
> 
> P/s Don't sue me if not everything makes sense, I'm no doctor


End file.
